Paint Me a Palace
by xSecretHeart
Summary: "Paint me a palace," she ordered. ...He painted love and longing; a princess in a ballroom, places long ago and a kingdom far, far away. -Senior year, and our favorite 4th grade bunch aren't kids anymore. Is Arnold finally seeing what was there the whole time? What's this about some throw-pillow play? Sweet, a new 'Evil Twin' movie? T to be safe. R&R!
1. Act I

**Disclaimer/ A/N:** All characters belong to Craig Bartlett / Viacom / etc.

My first _Hey Arnold_ fanfic. Please, do enjoy! Teen for situations and language.

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Arnold has always been fond of Helga's soft side, but it seemed as though he has been the only one to have ever seen it —save for when she acts on stage. Within each theatrical production, lead or not, even with another's mask on, Arnold seemed to _know_ her personal one would be off. Under the stage lights, she can be sweet and coy, gentle and bright, and to everyone else, she would be who she's supposed to be on stage —but to Arnold, she was whom she _could_ be. And ever so slowly, sometimes working alongside; sometimes opposite her, he found himself in love. Or like-_like_. He wasn't very sure yet.

She was no longer a schoolyard bully, though; but still rough around the edges, (nicknames never die) growing into a woman whose creative self shown through now more than ever. With each English literature class they shared over the years, and each play or musical they've been in —he watched her blossom, still holding onto the secret she spilled on that tower, how ever many years ago.

It was a shy sort of love he found himself in. A love which didn't necessarily appear while he was in her presence, with her semi-constant prodding; ("Whatever you say, Helga," he'd respond;) but it made itself sorely apparent when he thought of her. From her hidden passion in the writing she shared, to her blatant passion when pushing herself in sports 'with the boys', he managed to finally see all the fire that is Helga G. Pataki. Although he has yet to understand it, she was the one constant mystery he wanted to solve.

It was their senior class's first play of the year. A fairytale written by their old fourth grade teacher, Mr. Simmons, as a farewell present to his very first class at Hillwood. It was a rich girl-poor boy four-act play, with original musical compositions, and a social justice twist integrated into the plot —in just a way that no one other than Simmons, could.

"Still a throw-pillow," Helga said under her breath, as she skimmed the script, and then sighed in approval, "but a well-composed one, at that."

**Act I**

After a long prologue of characters whirl-winding about the stage, supposedly representing the passage of time, the spotlight shown only upon the girl, and the boy. _"Paint me a palace,"_ she ordered.

Arnold's nimble fingers slid over the worn instrument, as Gerald entered stage left, accompanied by his own spotlight. He started narrating, adding in wide gestures, akin to those he used during his playground urban-legend days. The violin in Arnold's hands emitted a soft melody.

_He painted love and longing; a princess in a ballroom, places long ago and a kingdom far, far away. He sketched the raging seas (for water can never truly be emulated;) the frantic cries, and the ship that sank, far below the waves; and the princess—left without parents, shoved into a position of power._

The music quickened frightfully, undertones of tragedy.

_His fingers were withered from these countless stories; arts he worked so ceaselessly on, and given little thanks for, yet he showed no discontent in his features. This was his duty, his life. Day in and day out, he was summoned by the daughter of his master to entertain her, to inspire her. And so it was done._

Slow and wistful, the strings sang. Arnold kept his eyes on Helga, brows furrowed, concentrating on his playing.

_This princess within the story then grew; his hands molding her metamorphosis —from a child of weak resolve, to a woman of fortitude. This woman, although strong and wise, looked back at her stolen childhood and wished, wished so very hard for it to be given back to her. She reminisced upon lazy summer days in the courtyard, and childhood crushes on the princes that her family visited._

_His hands may have shown age, through all their hard work, but he was still very young. Not two years older than his audience, he sometimes have wondered what life would have been like if he weren't assigned to this fate. But he had no qualms; for he was mute, and such a distinguished employment as this was pure luck for him._

Gerald exited the stage, as Phoebe entered on the opposite end, continuing the narration; Arnold still playing the violin, and Helga sitting upon the set bed, swaying, looking at the audience with only a dreamy expression, trying hard not to look at the violinist.

_Born of a poor family, this mute boy had a gift of story telling. Though he had no voice to work with, the medium he used was music, one that most people within his circle would have usually looked past. But with his skill and passion, crowds of people gathered around him as a young lad, thus gaining the attention of a wealthier gentleman; one of the highest noble blood._

"_Stop, that's enough. You should rest for the day,"_ she smiled, as her empty eyes glided toward his direction, blond hair moving slightly with the turn of her head. For a half-second, her eyes met his, and electricity shot through both. He packed up his instrument and noiselessly walked out the chamber door. Her character sighed.

Phoebe continued.

_Always the same story she asks for, slight variations from each, but always a princess and always a prince._

_A love, a loss, a war, a ball._

She exited, and Rhonda entered where Gerald had came in earlier.

_When will she be able to experience these events herself? Maybe not so tragically, but at least life itself. Her father kept her within the confines of their estate ever since she could walk. Always chaperoned or within a coach... she hardly knew the world outside her boundaries._

_She wasn't a princess, but she wasn't a pauper, either. Well to do, with a long established family lineage; it was only luck that kept her between luxury and exile. Simply put, she was blind, and in any other circumstance, they would have gotten rid of her. But, because fate was so generous, her family loved her —with or without sight._

The lights all dimmed as Act I of their first dress rehearsal ended. The stage looked empty as the normal lights came on for now, and a lone slow-clap greeted the students. "Oh you guys have always been so wonderful! I'm so happy all of you agreed to star in this play of mine, even though you've all changed in your own special ways! Four more days till showtime after today!" Everyone passing through the stage, and on the wings, replied with soft "You too"s and smiles toward the man.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to start up directing again, Eugene bounded onto the stage, eager to introduce his character in the next act, pirouetting in such an angle that of course got him tangled in Helga's empty bed sheets, creating a human burrito on the stage floor. A hand shot up through the cloth, accompanied with a muffled "I'm okay".

Simmons, seeing the irony of what he said to what happened, reiterated in a quieter tone, "Or should I have said, 'even though _some_ of you changed in your own special ways'?" Eliciting a laugh from his right-hand stage-woman, Sheena.

"Since it's obvious that some of you forgot, I'm reminding you! To make it easier on you guys, only one act per day until the night of the premier! Then on the day before, we're running it through completely! That'll be our longest day; we'll start early in the morning and keep going until we've gotten a hang of it! Got it?"

A collective jumble of "mhmm"s and "uh-huh"s reached his ears.

Since the stage lights dimmed, Phoebe couldn't find Helga, and likewise for Gerald to Arnold, so the two lost cohorts joined forces in an attempt to find their other halves. Meanwhile, Curly (who now goes by Thad), stood at the catwalk above the stage, with Sid, surveying everyone.

"Is...is that Helga?"

The two boys peered over to the star of the story, mid-moment, currently sitting at a corner, right behind the curtain. She was hunched over, her shoulders moving slightly as if she were laughing. Even Thad found this a bit unnerving, elbowing Sid to make sure he was seeing this. The stringy haired boy replied, "Man, I've seen this before. But you know those artsy types —they teeter on the wacko side and eventually plunge into the deep end." Thad knew a little too well what he meant, thinking nothing of it as he performed a graceful grand jeté past Sid, the two boys proceeding to get down from their posts.

Helga giggled to herself. "See? You're getting closer, old girl. There's no way he _couldn't_ have felt that! Plus, he practically bore holes into the side of your face! _And_ it's the same feeling that happened yesterday in class! Clumsy me, dropping a pencil, while my _flaxen-haired angel_ decided on his own accord to help me, at the same time I reached as well! Our fingers —shooting the same electric bolts which our eyes just shared!" She swooned, hugging the reduced-size locket and updated picture. Hearing tall-hair boy and her best friend nearing, she quickly hid the offending necklace and waited until they passed her.

"Pheebs!" she straightened up, going rigid as she heard the sound of wheezing behind her. Her jaw clenched, and her hands fisted, but all she did was spin on her heel and jab a finger to Brainy's nose. She hasn't punched the lanky kid for a good while, (after her sessions with Dr. Bliss,) and she wasn't planning on breaking that streak anytime soon.

"One day, _bucko_; you really need to stop," she growled, marching off in a huff toward her best friend.

Arnold was peeking through the dark, behind the stage, amongst the props. He could have sworn he saw Helga slink back there right after Act I finished. He sighed to himself, chuckling a bit. To think, he, long-time tormented, was purposefully looking for his long-time tormentor, in hopes of a pleasant conversation. He began to second think the fleeting moment his eyes had with hers on stage. Seeing a familiar stack of hair (although cut shorter than his childhood days), behind a couple of cut-outs, he called out to his best friend and walked quickly toward him.

Right at the moment Helga rounded a corner around the theater props, so did Arnold, and they collided in a heap in front of their two slightly amused, yet worried friends.

"Ugh, watch where you're going, football head," she complained, taking Arnold's outstretched hand.

Arnold smirked, "Sorry Helga," thinking to himself, _some things never change_. "I was actually looking for you."

She finally was upright again, her hand still within his as he said it, her head upturned to look at him. But before she could reply, Gerald interrupted.

"Yeah, well, we were _both_ looking for you two," he said, thumb pointing to the petite half-Asian (who looked as though she was stifling a giggle,) next to him. Helga pulled her hand away gently, but quickly, leaving Arnold's own hand to retreat slowly in response. He grinned sheepishly at Gerald, and the two pairs of friends started walking toward separate dressing rooms. But before either pair got to their destination, Arnold spun around, effectively walking backwards for a bit.

"Pataki, Phoebe, wanna join Gerald and I to some burgers after we get changed?"

Helga stiffened for a bit, leaving Phoebe to answer, raising her arm up as she too spun around. "Yes, we'd be delighted to join you two!"

Getting to the dressing room, the two boys wiggled their thumbs in a handshake, though Arnold wasn't really sure why. Gerald pulled his shirt above his head, saying, "Thanks Arnold. I was really debating on whether I should ask Phoebe out, but we were so busy looking for you and Helga, it just slipped my mind."

_Ah._

"Or the more realistic excuse; you chickened out," Arnold retorted, a smirk crossing his features.

"Gerald Johanson is scared of _no_ female."

"Except for Phoebe Hyerdahl."

Gerald's shoulders slumped. "Can you blame me? Sure, we've been dancing around each other for **years**, but man; she deserves someone_ so much better_." He sighed, tying his sneakers.

Arnold placed a hand on Gerald's shoulder. "I could think of no man more suited for a girl like her."

Stinky emerged from the back, holding a pile of costumes and various accessories, evidently helping reorganize the closet. He was sniffling slightly, and as he walked past the two best friends, he wailed, "That was the most gosh-darned touching sentiment I've ever heard."

The sound of his nose blowing soon echoed from down the hall.

Helga furrowed her eyebrows (ah yes, we'll get to that later) at the odd sound, making her way between the bustling teens, pushing the outer door of the theater for Phoebe and her. She pointed her free thumb toward the noise and offhandedly commented, "Geez, I wonder what Stinko's blubbering on about this time." She smirked and looked down at her companion.

The top of Phoebe's head seemed more contemplative than usual, and just as Helga was about to ask, Phoebe's tiny voice started, "Do... do you think Gerald genuinely likes me? Uhm, I mean, I know that sounds pretty harsh, but the guy is known to be quite the smooth talker and—" Helga's hand on her shoulder stopped her at mid-sentence.

"Pheebs. I've no doubt about it. As smooth as you think Geraldo is, he's obviously had trouble maintaining that façade around you in the past, and regards you highly as a person."

Pheobe smiled up at her friend. Just at five feet, Helga had a good five and a half inches on her. "Thanks Helga."

"No problem, Phoebe. Now, speaking of which, where is that chuckle-head and his trusty side-kick."

"We're right here, _Helga_."

Her voice caught in her throat, but she quickly recovered, "Good. Let's blow this pop-stand." The two boys caught up with the two girls, and they started making their way to a nearby burger joint, easing into conversation along the way.

It was nice, Arnold thought, the Helga she shows when it's just the four of them —or just the two of them. Of course she was still sarcastic, but her wit was aimed at no one in particular, and she actually made them all laugh, quite frequently. They talked about the nearing graduation, the new teachers —Mr. Simmons and his "cornball" attitude, and everything in between. When they finally got to the restaurant, they were in a heated debate about the newest installment of the "Evil Twin" series which was resurrected from their childhood.

"Mmm. Mmm. Mm. They're trying too hard! What are they expecting, both the old audiences from before, and these new kids will embrace the movie?" Gerald shook his head, letting Phoebe into the booth seat first. Helga stopped listening, noticing how now she had to sit with a certain football-headed boy. She wordlessly slipped into the other side of the booth, as the conversation was picked up by Phoebe.

"I agree. Who knows what market this new generation of kids would prefer. They might change up the entire equation of the movie just to satisfy them! I just know though, that even if I didn't necessarily _like_ those movies as a child, I'll still watch this new one —just for nostalgia's sake."

All four of them started reading the menu, with Arnold speaking up. "What? You didn't like _any_ of those movies?" Then he remembered, seeing Helga once or twice, alone watching the films. "Helga, you've seen them, I remember. What do you think?"

Her response was interrupted by the waiter, finally taking their orders. "I—I propose a movie marathon sometime before it comes out."

She surprised herself with her straightforwardness, turning her statement over in her head as the rest of them nodded in agreement to her idea. Conversation died down while they ate, but it was a pleasant silence which broke with laughter, only when someone made an unflattering face while taking a bite.

Arnold stole a sidelong glance at the blue-eyed girl next to him. She's changed, he mused, but was still the same. She got rid of any adornments on her head, having spent her freshman to junior years wearing a beanie and stubbornly keeping her pigtails, finally opting this year for a simple ponytail, sans-bow. He always wondered whether that pink accessory was underneath the beanie she once wore, but never got the chance to ask.

He remembered when she came back from winter break of sophomore year, with **two** _sculpted_ eyebrows. The entire class noticed. He noticed, and _she_ noticed _him_ noticing; of course snapping, "Take a picture! It'll last longer." Before folding her arms and slumping into a seat, mumbling something about 'stupid _Olga_' and 'stupid makeovers'. He smirked at the memory, turning his eyes toward his food once more.

Gerald on the other hand, though initially set on getting Phoebe's attention, couldn't help but watch Shortman ...swooning? That was the only word he could think of, and shook his head. _This kid is in too deep_, realizing the entire burger date wasn't _just_ for him to finally talk to Phoebe.

Helga was absentmindedly looking out the window, finishing up her fries and occasionally dipping them in Phoebe's milkshake. (Which of course, the friend didn't mind.) She felt a strange tickle at the back of her head, but shrugged it off, opting to glance at Phoebe, who seemed quite content with the situation they were in. A soft smile played at both Phoebe and Helga's lips.

The four walked out of the restaurant, each boy/girl pair headed toward opposite directions. Helga hugged Phoebe goodbye, as the two boys did their trademark handshake; the four of them agreeing to hash out the marathon plans some other time. As the two couples spun away from one another, the remaining three noticed at the corner of their eye, Gerald, sticking his elbow out as an offering for Phoebe to loop through. The sight was pretty cute, and at six feet, he was just the right height for her small self to link onto.

Helga semi-rolled her eyes. _Criminy,_ she thought, _how sickeningly sweet. This will definitely be Phoebe's day_.

Arnold and her walked for about a minute, before he nervously rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand, and stuck out his own left elbow. Helga's head snapped at his direction, eyes wide looking up at the five-eleven boy. She felt a blush creep from the tips of her ears to her cheeks, turning her attention straight ahead, huffing in faux-annoyance. "I'll humor you this time, _Arnoldo_, but don't get any weird ideas." She hesitantly slipped her own wrist through, letting out a shaky sigh, as both teenagers' gazes were directed on everything else but each other.

"Whatever you say, Helga."

Once they were relatively comfortable again, Arnold cleared his throat. "You're a great actress, you know." He felt her tense up, knowing it may have meant something else for her, and he clarified, "O-on stage; I haven't gotten to tell you that. You get lost quite easily in the character."

"W-well, it's not that hard. You're not bad yourself..." she trailed off, finally looking up at him. He met her gaze with a thankful smile. She turned her head forward again; voice, softer than earlier. "Why were you looking for me after the first act?"

He smiled wider, quite enjoying this moment with her. "No real reason. Just wanted to talk. Maybe mention what I just said." He looked ahead, feeling her nod in reply.

She regained her composure again, changing the subject. Helga shoved him with her hip, in mock-irritation. "Since when did you pick up the violin, football-head? I don't ever remember you playing it, or ever _mentioning_ it for that matter. Everyone was so sure Lorenzo was going to get the lead."

"I could ask the same of you, Helga," Arnold retorted, falling back into step with her, without un-linking.

"—What d'ya mean by that, bucko?" she snapped.

He shrugged, "C'mon, rich girl, princess-like? Rhonda ranted about it for days when Mr. Simmons first approached everyone. It must've taken an amazing audition to get her kicked off that spot."

"Yeah, well. Maybe I'm just an amazing person."

Both their eyes darted to their surroundings once again, hearing the familiar line.

A silence descended upon them, but Arnold was determined not to let it stay. "...I read the script and really liked the character. I knew Gerald played, so I ask—"

"—_Tall hair boy_ plays the violin too? Criminy! Our class should just be presented as the Philharmonic Orchestra!"

Mid-laugh, Arnold kept going, "—so I asked him to teach me the sheet music. He wasn't as interested in the role as I was, considering he wouldn't have been able to talk, and well yeah."

"Yeah." She subconsciously leaned onto his arm, as they approached her street.

He noticed, but decided against mentioning it. "Well, here's the Pataki residence."

"Yeah." She loosened herself up while letting go, the same way she would before entering the stage. Crossing her arms, she smirked. "Well, football-head, that's enough of my generous company for today," she rubbed her hands together, "be grateful for it." She turned, walking up her stoop.

Under Arnold's breath, she heard, "I am." And with that, her face contorted into confusion. She twisted herself, about to yell at him, (post-swoon, mind you); but he was already down the street.

"What... what could he have _possibly_ meant by that?"

"What... what could **I** have possibly meant by that?" he wondered aloud. It was true though. He was always grateful for their nice, quiet moments. They showed a Helga who was never as bad as she led on. Good thing he high-tailed it out of there, though. He was sure she heard, and he wasn't about to explain _that_ slip of the tongue to her.

He turned the knob to the boarding house just as his phone started vibrating in his pocket. A smile appeared when he found out who was calling.

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**A/N:** Hm... I wonder who could it be?

I'm thinking this will be my first relatively-rapidly updated multi-chapter story. I don't know; the characters are just so easy to write! Hopefully I stayed true to them. Oh, and if you were wondering, the play was an old story I scrapped a while ago. I guess it will now be revived (and added onto)! —Please, review!


	2. Act II

**Disclaimer / A/N : **All characters belong to Craig Bartlett / Viacom / etc. Teen for situations and language.

Ta-da! Thanks guys for the positive reviews! I surprised even myself for writing another chapter so quickly. It's very much unlike my other stories, which mostly consists of oneshots. Enjoy! And please, review!

**FAQ at the bottom A/N**

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He turned the knob to the boarding house just as his phone started vibrating in his pocket. A smile appeared when he found out who was calling.

"Hey Lila, what's up?"

"Oh, I'm ever so glad you picked up, Arnold! I couldn't find you after things finally settled down on the set. I would have called earlier, but I was tutoring some freshmen. Anyway, I just wanted to ask whether the essay in History was due this Friday, or next?"

By this time, the teenaged boy was making his way up to his room. He stuck his tongue out in concentration, attempting to remember something _other_ than Helga's stray hair that fell out of place after she hip-bumped him. His close friend's voice meekly pierced the silence.

"Arnold?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm looking for my planner..." he trailed off, finally (actually) rifling through his backpack. "Next. So we should have plenty of time, Lila."

"Thanks! I'll see you tomorrow."

"Mhmm."

He hung up, contorting his face in amusement. Oh, the irony of it all. After years of awkwardness where everyone assumed he still like-liked Lila; years of conscious avoidance, he finally approached her during the first lunch of freshman year.

"Lila, I don't have a crush on you."

"Neither I for you, Arnold," she said, looking up to him with a bemused grin.

"Cool. Can we be friends?"

"You never needed to ask."

And with that, they made up for lost time, associating with each other regardless of the rumors that still whispered about. She counseled him through his brief relationships, providing insight that Gerald sometimes lacked. She helped him realize something he'd never tell her. Or at least, not yet.

See, they both noticed that his relationships would abruptly end when or shortly after the girl would drop the L-bomb on him. This was peculiar to Gerald, Lila, _and_ Arnold, who would spend hour after hour mulling over why or how this could be. Arnold had always been such a romantic. He never had a phase where he _didn't_ like girls; heck, his first dates were in the _fourth grade_; when kids like Sid and Harold would **always** make fun of him for having 'girlfriends'. It couldn't be anything like him not believing in love, either. Or him being incapable of loving someone.

He did have a period in time where he doubted himself, but he fell for another pretty face quickly afterward. He just... he didn't believe _they_ loved _him_. There wasn't a fierceness in their confessions, no point within the conversation which would have made him simultaneously terrified and elated... something he felt was necessary for some unsaid reason.

For some unsaid, previously uni-browed reason.

Arnold laid on his bed now, looking up through the skylight, realizing the moment he accepted that unsaid reason, was the moment he started to consciously think of Helga in a romantic light. It was a lot for him to take in, in fourth grade, letting it slide the next time he saw her; but he never really forgot. The sun rose, and Helga loved him. Over the years, it was just a fact of life. So he tried to live with it along with the lie, of course entering into these relationships and then breaking them off; never truly understanding the extent at which that mere fact weighed down on his insight of love. Granted, he wasn't sure whether she still felt the same, as she —at various times, accepted dates from five different guys, (not that he kept count), and also pursued her own relationships.

Arnold shook his head. All that didn't matter. He had a goal in mind now, and whether this bizarre thing that gravitationally pulled both him and Helga together over the years at the weirdest of situations works or not, there was no harm in trying. Another fact of life which Arnold lived with.

His phone started vibrating again, a fleeting thought of _Wow, this must be how popular people live_, came up as he answered.

Meanwhile, at Helga's house, the blond was pacing anxiously at the front hallway. "I've got to tell Phoebe about this," she whispered to herself. Taking out her phone, she texted her friend chuckling as she typed, 'Call when you can. Ice cream pulled out a new flavor.'

She passed the living room on the way to the kitchen to get herself a snack before starting her homework, and set her eyes on the sleeping forms of her parents. Big Bob was in the recliner, while Miriam laid lopsided on the couch, a half-drunken smoothie falling out of her hand. Helga sighed. Aren't _they_ supposed to be the ones taking care of her? She shook her head, walking toward the linen closet instead of the kitchen to pull out a couple of blankets. She tucked both of them in, taking the remote out of Bob's hand, turned off the television, took the smoothie from Miriam, and flipped a lamp on when she turned out the light. Finally heading toward the kitchen, she imagined how a conversation would have went if they were awake when she got home.

"Olga! Sorry we ate without you, it was dinner time and you weren't home yet," Big Bob would say, as he kept his eyes glued to the television.

"It's Helga, _dad_. That's fine, I stayed late at school for a rehearsal, then had dinner with Phoebe and some other friends."

"You're in another play? Helga, why don't you ever tell us these things? We'd love to watch you in it when it comes out," Miriam offers, in her slurred out speech.

Bob adds in gruffly, "Unless, you know, you're just a stage-hand or something."

"Gee. Thanks you guys. I'm actually the lead. I'll let you know when—"

"—Oh Bob, remember when Olga was the lead for her senior class's play?"

"It was magnificent, wasn't it, Miriam?"

And that's when she would have taken her leave. Helga guessed it was much better that they were knocked out before she got home. As much as she's surprised them throughout the years with her Olga-like success, she also needed them to realize she _wasn't_ her sister, which lead them to repeatedly undermine her accomplishments. It didn't bother her really, though. She wasn't active at school for or because of them, she just wanted to be away from them as much as possible, and just so happened to find out she's _good_ at things.

Setting her cookies and milk on her desk, she dropped her backpack by the door and twirled. "Oh Arnold, what ever did you truly mean by 'I am,' as if someone as at peace with themselves like you, could be at any means grateful for accompanying someone like me? A tumultuous storm of self-loathing _and_ pride, someone as selfish and mean-spirited as I?" By this time, she had the locket out, gazing at him. She swooned that familiar sigh and flopped onto her bed.

"_I saw, I saw your face, and wow!—_" Helga smirked at the ringtone she initially assigned Phoebe just to bug her.

"Hey Pheebs. Before you get into your whole interrogation about Arnoldo, tell me in full detail what happened between you and _tall hair boy_." She heard her friend gasp at Helga's keen sense.

"Uhm well—" Helga could almost see the elation on Phoebe's face. She smiled.

"So we were walking a bit, talking about day to day things, and he just stops in his tracks, un-linking our arms. I was really confused, Helga. I honestly just thought he found the whole thing awkward, but when he placed both his hands on my shoulders to turn me toward him, he looked so... so earnest —and nervous and well—"

"Come on, Pheebs! I'm _dying_ over here!"

Phoebe laughed, "You said you wanted this in full detail! Anyway, his mouth opens and closes for a bit, as if he were trying to find the right words, and his eyes are positively welded toward mine, but when he finally starts _really_ talking, his eyes dart away. I was trying so hard not to laugh, you were so right, Helga! He _can't_ be cool around me. —Then so his eyes have let go of mine, but they don't stop moving as he says," Phoebe's voice lowers to mimic Gerald's, "Phoebe, I've liked you for quite some time now. And I know I should have asked you this earlier, but I've been such a, as Arnold says, 'chicken' about these things. But I think I'm ready to give us a shot. ...That is, if you are." Phoebe reverts to her own voice, "And I was just so speechless, Helga. I know you've always hinted at this happening, but I was starting to think it would _never_ happen, considering we're already seniors in High School."

Helga screamed.

"Are you alright?" Phoebe asked, automatically concerned.

"I'm _fine_! HOW ABOUT YOU? —Out with it! What did you say?"

"Well, I, uh... I hesitated."

"_Phoebe_—"

"—Then smiled and said, 'sure thing'."

"Oh. Great! Good. Then what happened?"

"We were right in front of my house by then, and made it a point to walk with each other in the morning to finalize first date plans."

"You don't know how happy I am for you."

"I'm pretty sure I do know." They both reveled a bit in the shared warmth of the situation, until Phoebe broke the silence. "So, a new flavor, huh?"

They spent about two hours after the freak out, going over every excruciating detail (as it is usually done when involving anything about Arnold), and Phoebe let out a happy sigh. "Helga, things are getting better for us in the boy department."

"Not so fast Phoebe, at least _you_ have semi-solid ground to walk on. As far as things are concerned, _I'm_ exactly where I have been since the start of High School. Think of it. By the time middle school came by, and we merged with the other elementary schools, things blew over. He was out of sight, and he was out of mind. For the most part. It was probably the same for him. What if," her voice hitched as her breath became short, "What if whoever I was in elementary school comes back full-force and just keeps pushing him away?"

"Well, you are right about the fact that nothing is set yet Helga, but you don't know for sure how he feels, and both of you _aren't_ the same kids you used to be, you know. Because you tried other guys and he's still 'the one,' your worry may just be the whole nostalgia of unrequited love getting to you, and you won't be strangled by whatever passion you have held on the down-low for him."

"I'm not really following, Pheebs."

"What I mean is that if anything does happen, you might just find out you're on the same page with him. Not overtly infatuated (to the point where you feel the need to put your guard up), once you realize completely what he means to you, and not so desensitized that he's just another boy. And I reiterate that you don't know what feelings he may have developed for you, too."

Disregarding Phoebe's last sentence, Helga continued, "Oh, so if that holds true, what you're saying is that if things go smoothly, my whole fear of the relationship being lopsided and disastrously dysfunctional is moot?"

"Yes! Precisely."

"That's a lot of 'if's, Pheebs."

"So is life."

"..." Helga quirked a brow, "Since when was Phoebe Hyerdahl the type to let the fates decide?"

"Since this situation has nothing to do with my own fate." There was a smugness in her voice, and Helga couldn't help but let out a bark of laughter.

"Alright Phoebe, whatever you say. I think I'll finally start on whatever's due tomorrow."

"Oh, you haven't been doing it as we talked?"

"You know I'm not you," Helga smiled at Phoebe's giggle continuing, "I'll see you, Pheebs. Let tall hair boy know I said hey. And that if he _ever_ steps out of line with you, he knows who will speak with him first."

"Will do!"

Arnold was having a similar, albeit shorter conversation with Gerald.

"Arnold, I just lived through the most nerve-wracking experience of my _whole young-adult life_."

"Don't you think you're getting a little ahead of yourself?"

"I think I'm just in parallel with myself as I need to be, Shortman."

Arnold laughed, "Don't get snappy with me, _Johanson_. Tell me how it went with Phoebe!"

Arnold was sitting up, spiral in his lap as he drew shapes and squiggles, listening to a mostly calmed-down Gerald relaying his walk home.

He smiled. "So, I take it you're one happy son of Johan?"

The blond-headed boy could _feel_ the deadpan through the phone. "...I'm going to let that slide, buddy. Since you haven't been yourself lately."

"What?"

Avoiding the question, Gerald kept going, "How did your walk with Helga go? I see you weren't killed or even slightly maimed."

Arnold chuckled, "You know we've been getting along lately."

"Don't I."

"Gerald, I could sense you have some hidden opinions toward this Helga and me thing?"

"Me, hiding what _I think_? Look at you acknowledging there _is_ a thing." Arnold could feel a blush creep up from behind his ears. Gerald continued, "I just noticed... that maybe you've started to take a liking to Helga. Not that I don't agree she's changed or anything, but I just want to know how and when and most particularly, why."

_That's right. _Arnold hadn't told Gerald about the whole tower incident. It _would_ seem a bit sudden for him to be acting the way he does around Helga, regardless of how subtle Arnold thought he was being.

"When? Since freshman year..."

"Okay... I'll accept that, since it has been pretty slow-paced until recently. What changed?"

"I just. I realized something."

"Dude, don't tell me you're_ in love_ with **Helga G. Pataki**. Are you suffering from Stockholm Syndrome or something?"

"Gerald, she hasn't bullied me since elementary school."

"Whatever, man. Spit out your reasoning, because regardless of how nice she is now, she's no Lila."

"I don't think I would like her as a Lila, anyway. Assuming Helga would have been how she was as a kid; that would be too much of a change. ...I mean, what is there to say, Gerald? We had a nice walk home."

"You stuck your arm out too, right?"

"I what? Wait, how'd you know?"

"I just knew. ...But that's it? A nice walk? You still haven't answered why."

"Why have I found myself liking Helga G. Pataki. The real question is, why has it taken so long?"

"WHAT."

"Gerald, haven't _you_ noticed all of the isolated occurrences that happened over the years to push her and I together —no matter how much I _didn't_ want them to happen, only to realize I didn't have such a bad time after all?"

"So you're settling for Pataki... because of what you deem as fate."

"No, but that's partly it? It's not like I'm telling you _I'm marrying her,_ Gerald. Don't act so incredulous about the whole thing."

"Dude, you know I support you one hundred percent. I just want you to be sure of what you're doing. She's not exactly the most tranquil person to be around."

"I should know, because _I _am."

Gerald let out chuckle. "Man, where are you getting this ego?"

"I only learn from the best." Arnold smirked as he looked over at the time. "Enough about the internal mechanisms of my mind. We'll talk about this tomorrow or something. For now, I gotta get at least some of my work done before I sleep. I promise I won't do anything rash. Just tell Phoebe I say hi."

"Yeah, sure man."

The next school day went by as per usual.

Except _maybe_ Helga could hear the whispers of compliments toward the newly-formed, pinky-entwined couple, and _maybe_ because these events transpired between their respective best friends, Arnold sat next to her in English. ..._And_ conversed with her about them, _and_ shared a couple of knowing smiles.

Yeah, the day totally went by as per usual.

**Act II**

_"Driver, could you please let me out wherever you see a charming patch of flora?"_

A mustached Stinky turned his head back in response, _"Sure thing Madam, but I'll have to tell you when to come back in, we have a schedule to keep intact."_

_"Alright." _Helga sighed, both her and Stinky freezing in place as Rhonda stepped in.

_It was a particularly warm day, and she could feel the sun through the coach windows, wanting nothing more than to lay between the grass-blades and inhale the new spring. Instead, she was to be seen by a family whose son wanted a wife in the near future. He was described as charming and well brought up, someone who 'wouldn't mind a special wife such as herself', but all that spelled for our protagonist was, 'desperate'._

Phoebe walked in on the opposite side, Rhonda quietly exiting.

_She felt as if she were just a burden to be handed off to someone willing to give her a home. She knew that wasn't at all true though, because her parents have comforted her time and again, saying they would not mind if she were to remain unwed, so long as she was wise with her inheritance. She was also told she was 'pretty' anyway, which held no value to her because the word displayed no palpable weight to it; except only in the world of sight. It meant something akin to her easily finding someone willing to keep her for her looks. _The coach 'stopped'.

_"Here, Milady. Just take my hand and I'll lead you to the patch."_

_"Thank you sir."_

Helga knelt down where he led her, Stinky keeping guard on both the girl and the vehicle. She happily sighed at his feet, her hair falling forward as she picked random plants and inhaled them blissfully. Eugene, in a flowing white shirt, galloped by, his horse slowing down at the sight. The coachman eyed him wearily.

_"Milady! Are you the woman my parents have told me to see today?"_

Her head turned to the direction of the approaching young man, making sure not to make eye contact. _"Ah, yes. I am." _She rose to her feet, flowers forgotten on the ground, and dusted her skirt to outstretch her gloved hand._ "I assume your parents have told you about..."_

He took her hand in both of his gently, _" —Yes. They have. I truly don't mind. You are lovely."_

She blushed, turning her head away. The coachman, letting them have some privacy, moved back toward his seat. The red-head continued, _"Let me lead you back to the coach and I'll ride ahead to open the gates for you."_

_"Very well."_

Phoebe continued.

_She kept herself composed as he helped her back into the vehicle. During the remainder of the ride though, she made a promise to herself._

_"I will only marry for love," _Helga said in confidence. "_Any man may say I'm lovely, but if there is no feeling of love, it shall not do."_

_Her and her coachman were welcomed to the estate with open arms, charming conversation, and blithe commentary about the town's current events over an exquisite dinner._

Dialogue ceased for now, Phoebe making her way off-stage. The orchestra pit came to life, narrating the dinner for the audience, as the actors on stage moved wordlessly to the music. Gerald, who was a servant during the scene, stepped to where a narrator would have been; everyone else stopping mid-action.

_She was happy, but she was also sure there wasn't any love, yet. But this may be a start._

The lights dimmed briefly for a change in scene. Helga was back in the coach.

_Coming home, she felt guilty. Guilty not because of something, but someone. A violin-playing someone._

_But why?_

The lights dimmed once more. This time, a handful of claps greeted the actors, stage-hands, and orchestra. Arnold was among the few who had no part in today's Act, opting to watch and support his friends after rehearsing his violin pieces for the next day. He came in right as Eugene's character appeared. An odd feeling came upon him then. Not because it was Helga, but because it was Helga _and_ Eugene. Their characters were scripted to **flirt**. He wasn't jealous, he was more amused than anything; but no matter what he did, something in his gut felt as though the scene was too _forced_ between the two. There wasn't any chemistry.

He's seen her act as a love interest for other students, and they worked just fine; and he supposed, with these next few rehearsals, maybe any type of chemistry can be salvaged between the two, but for now, it just seemed like a scene from a second-rate film. Enough for regular audiences to buy, but not enough for someone with as keen enough of an eye as Arnold.

Mr. Simmons gathered the students around to give another team-building speech, pointing out politely the kinks in places that occurred within the act, (Sid accidentally elbowing Thad, who at one point had the spotlight jerked into the audience as they bickered, etc etc) ending the talk on a positive note.

Arnold made sure to find Helga immediately after she changed from rehearsal, knowing she'd be alone since Phoebe would be off with Gerald on their first date.

"Hey Helga."

"Geez Arnoldo, don't spook me like that." Helga inwardly gulped. _This is it, Phoebe is no where in sight to give me a distraction, it's just me and hair boy._

"Sorry." Arnold quickly scrapped the plan to critique Helga's performance, thinking maybe now wouldn't be a good time to do so. They started walking toward the exit of the theater, Arnold letting his face give away the fact that he was thinking.

"Penny for your thoughts, football-head?"

"I was just wondering why Mr. Simmons doesn't give his characters any names." _Whew. Good one, Arnold._

Without missing a beat, Helga answered nonchalantly, "He wants his audience to easily identify with the characters. If you gave them names, it would be easier to keep them distinct from you, the viewer. _Oh, I'm the blind chick because sometimes I want people to see me for who I am, even though I'm not actually blind. _Or _Gosh, I express myself better through other means, even without speaking, like that mute guy._"

They were outside, finding nearby bench while she finished up her thought. Arnold was just _looking_ at her. Intently. Against her better judgment, she scowled at him. "_What_?"

That seemed to shake him out of his stupor, but left a dumfounded smile at its wake. It melted her heart, but she sure as heck wasn't about to show that. "Nothing. You're just... I'm glad I asked that question out loud, is all."

She rolled her eyes, but grinned softly nonetheless.

The moment was broken by a certain green-skirted red-head. "Arnold! I've been looking for you!"

His gaze broke from Helga to the person she knew who was approaching from behind her. "Oh, hey Lila, what's up?"

She came up to the two of them, Helga turning forward to give them some sense of privacy, while Lila shot Arnold a puzzled look. He shrugged, a sheepish smile appearing on his face in response, and she continued. "You know how I told you at lunch that last night a pipe burst at our apartment? My dad just called, and he needs help moving some things from the kitchen and dining room because things have gotten worse."

Arnold stood up immediately, a sense of abandonment forcing itself onto Helga. He put a hand on her shoulder, which led her to look up at the boy. "Sorry to cut our conversation off, Helga, but you know how I can't turn down anyone who needs help. We'll pick up this conversation soon." _And then he winked._

Helga was sure she sat in shock for the next hour (which was actually a minute or two). _What is __**happening**__?_ Standing up, she loosened her limbs and walked home in a half-hearted fume. She's known for a while that they were best friends, so there wasn't any real jealousy, just some anger at the unfortunate circumstance that tore Arnold's unabashed attention from her, and a little uncertainty at the fact that maybe Lila still remembered the Romeo and Juliet incident, but that was all. She got home, slamming the door behind her in an utterly confused huff.

_Li-la. ...That _—_that __**wink**__._

* * *

**A/N:** WHAT, ARNOLD FLIRTING? WHAT, FIRST DATES? WHAAAT. Yeah. I might as well be Helga, huh. Anyway, I'm truly grateful for the feedback, keep em coming!

**FAQ** —Yes, the play is an original work, though if you put all the parts together, I doubt it would be enough to make an actual play from.


	3. Of First Dates & Dinner Faints

**Disclaimer / A/N : **All characters belong to Craig Bartlett / Viacom / etc. "_Like A Star_" - Corinne Bailey Rae. Teen for situations and language

Please, review! No act in this chapter, but plenty of _awkward_.

* * *

_Li-la. ...That _—_that __**wink**__._

Helga made her way into the kitchen, finding an array of ingredients for dinner haphazardly piled onto the island, hiding her dozing mother from view. She placed her palm on her forehead in frustration. "Criminy, must I do everything in this hell-hole of a house?" she muttered. As if it were second nature to her, she picked up where Miriam left off, placing her ipod in shuffle, Helga washed her hands and swayed her hips as she cooked.

_Just like a star in my sky,_

_just like an angel off the page,_

_you have appeared to my life,_

_feel like I'll never be the same._

_Just like a song in my heart,_

_just like oil on my hands,_

_honor to love you..._

Big Bob passed by about half an hour later later, just coming home from work when this familiar sight greeted him. Something overcame his demeanor, knocking on the wall to alert Helga, he softly grinned at the back of her head. "Good job, kid."

_Still I wonder why it is,_

_I don't argue like this,_

_with anyone but you._

_We do it all the time,_

_blowing out my mind._

"Yeah yeah," came a soft reply, as the girl mimicked the same grin to herself.

_You've got this look I can't describe,_

_you make me feel like I'm alive..._

_When everything else is au fait,_

_without a doubt you're on my side,_

_heaven has been away too long,_

_can't find the words to write this song._

_Oh..._

_Your love._

Meanwhile, Lila, Mr. Sawyer, and Arnold were huffing about, attempting to move the bulk of the things in the dining room and floor of the kitchen, into the little space of the living room. Mr. Sawyer looked at Arnold apologetically, as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Sorry for dragging you into this, Arnold."

"Oh no, it's completely fine. I help my grandpa around the boarding house a lot, it's a wonder the place hasn't fallen apart yet. Do you know what caused the burst?"

"Actually, it's not even one of our pipes. It's the neighbor's. They share the wall with us, and are out of town for now. But they've offered to pay for the damage; which doesn't exactly help fix things at the current moment."

Sloshing into the kitchen, Arnold got onto his knees with the toolbox he borrowed from home. A pink ribbon was fastened as a placeholder, amongst rubber bands and paperclips. He chuckled to himself. Even when she wasn't there, he was reminded of her presence. Shaking his head, he didn't notice Lila approaching. She smirked slyly at the boy.

"Reminds you of a certain someone?"

Arnold sputtered, unable to hide his surprise. "I, uh, what?"

"Oh you know," kneeling, the red-head smiled amusingly, as Arnold tried to focus on the task before him.

"Can we talk about something else? Uhm hand me tools as I ask for them, yeah? Wrench please."

"_Arnold_," Lila countered, dropping her joking appearance and handing the tool she sighed, "You don't have to hide things from me. I think it's rather sweet that you finally came around to liking her."

Interest piquing, he probed, "What do you mean, 'finally came around'?"

"I've just always been rooting for the two of you, is all. Have you told Gerald?" She was grinning again, this time just watching his hands work. She handed him another tool.

He sighed, "Yes, but he wasn't nearly as supportive. I didn't even have to explain anything to you, and Gerald needed the full play by play of my thought process just to —crescent— just to see if I haven't lost my mind."

Lila patted her index finger on her chin thoughtfully. "Well, when you like someone intensely, you kind of _do_ lose your mind."

Arnold's face was beet red, finishing up. "Wait, me specifically, or liking in general?"

"Both." She laughed.

Mr. Sawyer came in, offering the both of them a snack. Arnold waved the offer away, smiling at the two redheads. "Thanks Mr. Sawyer, but I'll be heading out now that the job is done. Lila, I'll call later about uh yeah..."

Lila laughed again at the slightly distraught boy, as he turned around with his sleeves still rolled up, holding the toolbox, she noticed the pink ribbon tucked into his back pocket.

Mr. Sawyer picked up one of the half-sandwiches. With a full mouth he proclaimed, "What a nice boy. Why haven't you dated him?"

The girl looked up at her father incredulously. "Arnold? He's a brother to me. He'll make a lucky girl happy, but I can guarantee, that _won't_ be me."

"If you insist, dear."

_Now I have come to understand,_

_the way it is;_

_it's not a secret anymore,_

_'cause we've been through that before..._

_From tonight I know that you're the only one,_

_I've been confused and in the dark;_

_now I understand._

Helga hummed to herself, topping off a roasted ham and mashed potatoes with the diced up cilantro that Miriam finally helped her with. There wasn't any special occasion that night but her mom thought she could take on the feat of a dinner _this_ caliber? Helga shook her head, wishing her mom was as competent as she knew she could be. But, the girl was proud of herself for pulling it off. Setting the dinner on the table, she danced around, singing the song she decided to put on repeat, lost in her headphones as she tidied up the kitchen before her parents came to join her for the meal.

_"I wonder why it is,_

_I don't argue like this,_

_with anyone but you._

_I wonder why it is,_

_I won't let my guard down,_

_for anyone but you._

_We do it all the time,_

_blowing out my mind..."_

Amidst her one-woman show, she didn't notice Big Bob opening the front door, and more importantly, a visitor popping in to watch her. Arnold leaned onto the door frame, unable to keep himself from smiling widely at the sight. Helga sang on, eyes closed and dancing around the kitchen, knowing exactly what had to be done so she didn't need to look.

_"Just like a star across my sky,_

_just like an angel off the page,_

_you have appeared into my life,_

_feel like I'll never be the same..._

_Just like a song in my heart,_

_just like oil on my hands..._

Oh, your love..._"_

Finally, her eyes opened when she heard a soft golf-clap from out of her periphery. Spinning around in horror, she was greeted with an obviously happy Arnold. She dropped the rag she was holding, as suddenly her vision blacked out.

"...Helga? Helga, honey, wake up," drawled her mother.

_Oh, it was just a nightmare. The love of my life did **not** witness me singing the song that I've assigned specifically for him in my heart of hearts, and Miriam is waking me up from waiting too long for the two of them to join me for dinn—_

"I think her eyes are moving."

She stiffened at the voice, _No. No no no no no no,_ scrunching her face in an attempt to disappear from the current situation, Arnold compulsively leaned in closer.

"Helga, I asked everyone to postpone dinner until you woke up. Come on, eat what you worked hard on."

The girl braced herself, opening her eyes and shoving the boy out of the way. She sat up on the couch, gruffly sighing, "I don't work hard on anything,_ football-head_." She added, "Since when were you allowed to invite yourself to dinner, anyway?" and stomped her way to the dining room where a disgruntled Big Bob sat. Miriam and Arnold trailed behind her, his eyes rolling at her act. Minutes before, he just caught one of Helga's most tender moments; uninhibited and fully herself. She can't erase his memory so easily.

The second she sat down, her dad exclaimed, "Dig in!". Miriam started to talk, pushing her glasses up, "Thank you Helga —I swear I didn't know what happened, one minute—" Miriam took a bite, "one minute I got the groceries in, and next; you're bustling around the kitchen."

Helga was gingerly placing the food on her plate, palms sweaty because of their unexpected visitor, half listening to her mother. "Yeah, well, this isn't the first time Miriam." She decided to keep her eyes on her plate when Arnold quirked a brow at her.

"You know, this is pretty good Helga, I didn't know you can cook." Arnold piped up, trying to move conversation on.

Big Bob added between bites, "Yeah Olga, I didn't know you had it in you! I mean all the other times you cooked, those were pretty simple."

Helga pointed a sardonic look at her pig of a father, "Helga, _dad_." Sighing, she finally addressed the elephant in the room. "Arnoldo, _why_ are you here?"

"I told you, 'We'll pick up the conversation soon,'" he winked (again) at her, cheeks full of food.

By force of habit, she wanted to simultaneously laugh joyously _and_ wipe that stupid expression off his face _with her fist_. Even if he was a man of his word, showing up uninvited into her house and insisting on having dinner with her family was torture. The entire thing was like having heaven and hell collide and she had to be the one to hold the two apart with her scrawny little arms. They all settled into a silence which was only tense for Helga.

Big Bob finished first, drinking his water, he leaned onto the table with his forearm. "Edward—"

"—Arnold"

"Yeah. Do you know anything about beepers?"

Helga groaned, slumping her face into her hands as Miriam stood up to clear everyone's dishes. Arnold politely answered, "No sir, just that doctors and hospital workers still use them."

"That's right! See, little lady? It wasn't an irrelevant question," he continued on as Helga cringed at the misuse of the word, "Anyway, I'm no idiot. Our emporium sells cell phones now too, I just didn't want to give up the alliteration." Bob laughed at his own genius, "Let me cut to the chase, kid. Would you like to work part-time at the store? Since you and Helga will be spending more time together you might as well make yourself useful."

The two teens were gawking at the man by now, shocked at the notion of 'more time together' and whatever that entailed. Arnold coughed, replying, "Uh, sir, I don't think the business world is for me—" Helga roughly took the boy by the elbow, yanking him out of the chair.

She was laughing nervously, dragging the boy behind her "W-well you got your answer, Bob; we'll be going now!" They made it out onto the stoop, as she slammed the door behind them. She started pacing, wringing her hands, "Arnold I'm sorry about my family they just jump to conclusions and—" this time _he_ grabbed _her_ by the wrist and pulled her along.

"Don't worry about it. Let's get some ice cream."

They walked on like that, sun close to setting, and Helga felt like her hand was being incinerated off at the wrist. He hadn't let go yet. It was awkward, but it was _right_. And yet it wasn't. She bit her lip, clearing her throat as she wriggled her wrist out of his grasp. Finally breaking his thoughts as the surprisingly delicate wrist slipped out of his hand, he glanced at the girl.

"I was just thinking about the marathon, where it should be, who else to invite—"

"Easy. My house; my parents will be out that weekend, and we'll just invite the whole gang. We've already been rallied up for this godforsaken play, might as well make an event out of it."

"How do you do that?"

She shrugged, "Do what?"

"Think of plans so quickly. I may have grand schemes, but it takes a while for them to click. You always seem to be a step ahead of me." Arnold shoved his hands into his pockets.

She looked away shyly, "Uh, well. I don't know." _You don't know the half of it._ She thought back on that one Christmas, her as Deep Voice, her helping save Mighty Pete... He pushed the door open for her as they both entered the ice cream bar.

The bell above the entrance jingled, alerting the patrons of new customers. A familiar pair waved over Arnold and Helga. "Yo, blondies!"

Helga wanted to chuckle at the scene. Phoebe and Gerald were apparently at the tail-end of their date, sharing a half-melted sundae, _sitting on the same side of the booth_. She decided to voice out her thoughts as Arnold let her slide in first. "Criminy, I could get a cavity just noticing how sickeningly sweet you two are."

Phoebe blushed as Gerald coolly placed his arm around her shoulders, smiling appreciatively. The two boys shook their hands, Arnold letting them in on the plans Helga just brought up.

"Oh that just sounds delightful. But what are you going to do to take care of food and drinks?"

Helga ordered a chocolate shake, giving a menu back to the waiter, "Uh, maybe charge people two dollars or something to help pay for it. Depends on how many people are there."

"Wanna make it a big overnight thing?" Gerald offered.

Helga never thought of that, scratching the back of her ear thoughtfully. "I guess I'll have to ask the parents about it, but sure why not." She didn't let it show, but her mind was racing. _An over night thing with girls and guys?_ How would she keep people from doing the dirty under her roof? She'll just have to keep an eye on everyone and strongly suggest keeping everything downstairs. _Yeah, that's it_.

Phoebe picked up on her best friend's anxiousness. "If you want, Helga, I could sleep over tonight to smooth out the details and maybe hint it toward your parents before the weekend approaches."

She smiled gratefully at her friend, taking a sip of her shake, "Thanks Pheebs."

"Great, sounds fun. Gerald and I could come in early to help push furniture out of the way or something." Arnold took a bite out of his raspberry ice cream, not noticing Helga's sidelong glance.

"I thought your grandpa always says 'Never eat raspberries.'"

He smiled sheepishly for half a second before his look was replaced with one of curiosity, intently looking at the ice cream in his hand. "How do you know that, Ms. Pataki?"

A long silence followed, Helga's ears a deep shade of red under her hair. Gerald shared an amused look at Phoebe, who silently chortled. He cleared his throat. "So how do you guys think the play is going? Phoebe and I were discussing the different characters and who were acting them, we want to hear your opinions."

"Well, I already told Helga this, she's doing a great job." He elbowed her while continuing, "Everyone knows this isn't the first time she's acted blind."

Helga nearly choked, causing the boy next to her to pat her back in an attempt to help. She thought he would forget about that April Fool's incident. That was so long ago. _...What else has he remembered_? A look of dread crossed her features.

"Helga, relax! I was joking. I do have one criticism though," she glowered over at him, "You and Eugene have _zero_ chemistry."

Phoebe outright laughed at this statement, agreeing full heartedly, nodding her head and taking a spoonful of what was left of the sundae. Gerald on the other hand, was looking at his best friend in unabashed horror. Helga recovered from her near-death experience, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"Yeah, well. Whaddya guys suppose I do about it? It's not exactly the easiest thing in the world to pretend_ I'm infatuated with Eugene Horowitz_."

"Maybe you can picture him in his underwear!" Phoebe blurted, finger up in the air as if an ah-ha moment. Gerald placed a hand over hers, bringing it down.

"Hun, that's for nervousness."

"Oh... yeah."

Arnold finished off the ice cream, making eye contact with the girl next to him. He spoke tentatively, as if walking into the unknown, "Maybe imagine it's someone you _do_ love. How else did you do it for your other plays?"

Helga couldn't speak. She didn't break look away from his green eyes, either. _Idiot, __**you're**__ already in the play. What, pretend there are two of you vying for my attention_? She gulped. "I, uh; yeah, that is what I did with previous partners."

"Then what's the problem this time?" He probed, unable to pinpoint exactly why he wanted to know so badly.

"Why do you want to know so bad, _hair boy_?" Her brows were furrowed as she stood up, "Thanks guys for the critique, but it's getting late. Let's skiddadle, Pheebs."

"Skiddadling," Phoebe replied melodically. The other three followed suit, Gerald encompassing his date in a hug. In turn, she pecked him on the cheek as their respective best friends gave them a sense of privacy by heading for the door.

Parting ways in front of the restaurant, the friend-pairings caught each other up on the night's events.

"And then I fainted, Pheebs. **I fainted**. He saw me sing and dance _and even applauded_. And what do I do? **I black out**. _Like an Italian marionette without strings._"

"And then she fainted, Gerald. _What did I do_?"

"Did you tell the Señorita that she set a fine table and growl?"

Separately, but concurrently, Arnold and Phoebe shook their heads, chuckling at their friends.

"And then what happened," Phoebe asked as she unrolled the extra sleeping bag kept at Helga's house.

Tiptoeing to grab a duffel bag of emergency overnight things, Helga responded, "Nothing much really, but Big Bob didn't fail to insinuate something more than friendship was going on and offered Arnold a job." She smashed her head into the bag and groaned. "I dragged him out right after he politely rejected the job proposal."

"Ah, and that's how you two got to the ice creamery. Uh, at least he didn't bring it up again? Maybe he's not against the idea of you know, you two."

Helga's head shot up, tossing the bag to her friend. "Yeah, maybe..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes glazed over, before snapping back into reality. She rubbed her hands together, a slow smile emerging, "Now tell me all the gushy details about you and Geraldo's _date_."

Phoebe blushed slightly, "Well I mean, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, we left post-haste after rehearsal and got ready separately. He picked me up from my house and..."

"...We had dinner at Chez Paris; great conversation, _delectable_ dining, and clicked as we usually do. We wanted something sweet, but couldn't fit a fancy dessert into our budget, so decided to split a sundae. Then you two barged into the ice cream place and we—"

"—We didn't _barge_, Gerald." Arnold interjected, as he flossed his teeth.

Gerald flicked his wrist at the correction, continuing, "We couldn't just watch from afar like we intended, and waved you two over."

"Oh come on, that couldn't have been _all_. Helga and I had more of an eventful night and we're not even going out."

"Hey, mine and Phoebe's night is just as eventful, just not as **painstakingly awkward**. Hey; maybe the fates knew this would happen, and balanced it out this way." Gerald shrugged, putting on a pair of Arnold's extra pajama pants. "So, why'd you invite me over? Are you about to call Lila and talk to us about something?"

"Yep."

"...Oh dear, so Helga just fell to the floor?" Lila's concerned voice filtered through speaker phone, after both Gerald and Arnold relayed what happened.

"Yeah, and I had to carry her to the living room and ask her parents to wait before starting dinner."

"Mmm. Mm. M. Are you sure you know what you're getting into with this girl?"

"Gerald, now is not the time to have him back out of this. I've been waiting quite a while for him to come to his senses," Lila retorted.

Arnold wrinkled his brows,"Lila, I'm not sure I feel comfortable with you hinting that you've predicted this a while ago..."

"Arnold, I'm ever so sure we're past being _comfortable_ in our friendship. Gerald doesn't get a scolding when _he_ 'hints' at you for being crazy for feeling this way."

Gerald scowled at the phone. "Yeah, but the thing is, he **is**."

Arnold sighed, running a hand through his hair as the cell phone sat on the floor between him and Gerald. "This is enough you two. I appreciate that both of you have such polar sentiments about this, it gives me different perspectives. But the thing is, I like Helga. There, I said it. Now, assuming I won't _not_ like her anytime soon, what should I do about it?"

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry about the lack of play in this chapter, but I wanted to clarify the dynamic between Arnold and Lila, as well as better illustrate how Helga's home-life usually pans out. Hope you guys enjoyed this installment!

Also, "Is it racist if I say she tastes like edamame?" (Brownie points to those who get it.)


	4. Act III: A Mission Accomplished

**Disclaimer / A/N : **All characters belong to Craig Bartlett / Viacom / etc. Teen for situations and language.

Huzzah, a new Act! Please, review! (And as always, enjoy.)

* * *

"...There, I said it. Now, assuming I won't _not_ like her anytime soon, what should I do about it?"

It may have donned on Helga, once she got on stage for the first time that day, that maybe she should give the football-head more credit. He was right. It was a complete and utter sham of an act being paired with Eugene, but she needed to make it work _For the sake of the audience._ So when the redhead flounced toward her, she mustered all she can into the performance; pretending to entice jealousy from her beloved —which, she didn't realize, was what she was supposed to be doing _in_ the play anyway.

**Act III**

After a long-winded orchestra montage of various storybook dates with Eugene, (which surprisingly, went with not so much as a hitch) the two characters were ending their most recent excursion at Helga's courtyard.

"_I... I think I'm in love with you._" The freckled boy swept her hair gently away from her face, pushing it behind an ear. She dropped the flowers she held, ones she picked from the same patch they met.

He continued, eyes sweeping her own stillborn face. "_My lovely flower, I have courted you for three weeks but you have yet to give me a sign!_" Eugene's character dramatically kneeled before Helga, taking her hand as she blinked bashfully away from the boy.

"_A... a sign? What are you looking for? What more can I do? I have not banished you from my home; I have not spoke ill of your pursuits, and not once have I complained about your company. I've done all I could! What more from me could you want?_" She started tearing up now, taking her hand gently from his grasp. In a moment of artistic-license, the hand she drew from him cupped his slightly puzzled face as she leaned down to give him chaste a kiss on the forehead. She heard Simmons audibly gasp at the two of them, enthralled by his own work.

Helga's dress fluttered behind her as she rushed from the 'courtyard', into her room where she slammed the door in front of her courtier's face. She crawled hurriedly onto the bed, curling up and letting out a few sobs; reaching frantically for the bell that was always at her bedside.

Arnold came into the room using another entrance, worry etched so realistically in his features, but poised to play for the girl.

She sat up, drawing her knees close; inhaling shakily. "_Boy, I know I summon you day in and day out to tell me beautiful, wonderful, imaginative stories with your instrument —and I know you are unable to speak; but please, have a conversation with me._"

Arnold approached tentatively, keeping his violin up.

"_What do you know about love?_"

Helga could feel his gaze. It was so intense, so consuming; it made her whole body rigid and took all her willpower not to look into those green eyes. Not to meet them in the false love she only ever dreamed of seeing.

He started playing a soft melody and her eyes closed at the music. The notes flickered before her, dipping and flying, all the essence of his character's emotion put into the instrument he used to talk. She stood up then, cheeks still glistening with stage-tears; circling the boy as he kept playing, turning toward her, and eventually circling her as well.

She stopped, and so did the music.

Spinning on her heel toward the audience, bitterness seeped into her voice. "_What; what could you know about love? That was awe-inspiring, but that —that could have just been what you've felt from a book, or heard in other pieces of—_"

He cut her off with a sharp violin-retort; stepping toward the girl.

Her lips were stretched thin, fists balled when she turned again toward him, pointing an accusing finger at his direction. "_Don't you dare answer me in that manner! My family—_"

Again, he interrupted her, violin more adamant than his usual, gentle playing.

Her arm came down, as she stepped toward the noise, "_I— What a terrible thing to insinuate! That I, that I would go through with such a heinous act as leading this poor boy on— assuming that I'm in love with someone else! That's preposterous!_" She was stepping closer now, with each scathing word, "_You can't tell me who I do and do not love!_"

Then he kissed her.

Not one breath after her last scripted word, Arnold, (also apparently choosing to take an artistic-license of his own) smashed his lips onto hers, (where instead, he was supposed to have played another short piece on love and dashed out of the room) both their eyes closing instantly, as the curtain dropped and an enthusiastic Simmons clap was heard, muffled through the cloth.

Gerald stepped into the spotlight before the closed curtain when the 'applause' died down.

_And so, the secret was revealed. The shy, music boy actually loved this blind girl; found her as a muse —nay, **his** muse, and was filled with silent rage when she chose to spend time with this stranger of a courtier instead of him._

Meanwhile, the two actors backstage were plunged into darkness, as Helga backed away from him, eyes glowing in anger. She was hissing whispered threats at him for his out of character behavior, sure that the rest of the cast and crew were busying themselves with their own work. Arnold shook his head, eyes staring at the ground before his feet; smiling to himself, violin forgotten on the stage bed.

_During all the years in which they spent hours together, silently enjoying eachother's company were not wasted on him. And in that fleeting second of honesty, all he wanted in return was reassurance that maybe... maybe it wasn't wasted on her as well._

"Look here, bucko; am I going to have to take Old Betsy out of retirement for you to get back to where you're supposed to be?"

His head tilted up sharply in reply, green eyes catching her blue ones; smirk evident in his features. Her demeanor changed instantly, eyes growing wide and eyebrows raised, her fist dropped. She was stepping back as he slowly stepped forward. April Fool's Arnold was a beast Helga rarely trifled with since that dance.

Gerald stepped off stage, Phoebe picking up the slack.

_But for her, she wasn't sure. She was never sure about that elusive emotion, 'love'; whether she ever experienced it herself —whether what she felt for this music boy actually consisted of it. There was a brief period in time where she may have felt something for him, but it faded into the background as the seasons changed and as she became entrusted with more responsibilities._

His words came out slowly, dripping with smug knowledge. "Helga, every threat you've ever given me has been empty. In all the years I've known you, you haven't laid a finger on me."

Her back finally hit the cool brick of the theater wall. She was visibly twitching, eyes struggling not to meet his.

"A-Arnold, look, if you just wanted me to apologize for—"

"Helga."

Rhonda spoke on center stage, now.

_But with his parting action, she couldn't deny the fact any longer. She, at last, found why the courtier's honorable advances felt so... unnatural._

_She always loved her music boy. She always will._

_But what was there for her to do? What could she make of this new-found knowledge?_

Helga finally looked at Arnold and he was suddenly just a breath away. His eyes... they pierced through her. She watched his Adam's apple bob, then went stiff, realizing his fingers were lightly brushing the nape of her neck.

He swooped in, lips crashing into hers once again, his other hand making its way to her waist. She didn't initially respond due to shock, but he kept up the pressure until she did. Oh, but when she finally kissed back, it was just as much vigor, arms snaking up around his neck.

When they parted, a soft melodic sigh escaped her lips.

Some rustling was heard before Gerald's own whisper came through. "Phoebe, did you hear that?"

"I think... I think they're over there."

The two blonds seemingly jumped three feet away from one another when their best friends approached.

"We need to get you two, Simmons especially wants you guys and Eugene to listen to his closing speech." Phoebe enthusiastically linked arms with Helga, gushing about her performance, as the two guys shared an unseen wink, trailing behind them.

"...The ad-libbing of the third act brought me to tears. You three have done so much to bring the characters to life, I can't be any more proud than I am at this moment. Never in my years of teaching, and subsequent theater-directing, have I seen such rawness to people who are not supposed to exist outside of this imagined world.

And to each and every one of you, not one detail goes unnoticed by me, you'd be surprised how the smallest of changes can make something feel complete. One more act and then showtime! I am so proud of each of your special selves being here for me and with me."

The trio blushed as Mr. Simmons gave them in particular, a hug each when he walked off, presumably to his car; leaving the the cast and crew to close shop as usual. Arnold climbed onto the empty stage before everyone dispersed though, catching their attention.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, as you guys might know, the weekend after this Friday's performance, is the release of a new 'Evil Twin' movie —You know, the ones that came out when we were kids; and Gerald, Phoebe, Helga and I were wondering if you guys would like to join us at the Pataki's for a sort of all-night movie marathon thing...? The only problem is that if you all want to join, we've gotta pitch in for the food." The other three aforementioned friends made their way through the crowd to stand in front of Arnold's post in order to catch their cohorts' reactions.

Lila timidly raised a hand to draw attention toward herself, "That sounds oh-so fun, I think I'll go."

"Well if Miss Lila here thinks the shindig would be worthy of her time, I suppose I'll mosey on over too."

"Boy howdy, I didn't even realize they were adding onto that series! Nadine and I used to always reenact the scenes for Harold since his _mommy_ didn't let him watch them!" Sid let out a squeak of a laugh, hitting his knee from the hilarity.

Harold grumbled, also agreeing to go, not denying Sid's childhood story which convinced Nadine to attend, while piquing Lorenzo's interest. (He wasn't sure whether he could pencil in an entire night dedicated to something other than sleeping.)

"Well, I suppose it would be pretty cool to spend the night with everyone, enjoying the slash-genre. Count me in," Iggy added, pushing his ever-present sunglasses up his nose.

Eventually, all that was left was Rhonda, whose nose was slightly upturned from the four party planners, the rest of the agreeing mass finishing up their stage duties. Thad slunk up next to her, Harold eying the oddball wearily. "C'mon, dollface. Dontcha love spending time with us? With _me_?"

"Ugh! No, **Curly**. I just never liked those dreadful movies when I was a kid, what makes it any different now?"

Harold spoke up now, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, "Well, you'll never know unless you watch 'em with us."

Helga's arms crossed as her eyes rolled, tired of watching this weird-ass love triangle. "As always, the _Princess_ has to have it her way. Can't just join in if it's someone else's idea of fun, huh? Some things really don't change."

"Oh, and you're so different now, Pataki? Fine. I'll go. Just to see how anyone like _you_ can cohabitate with someone as amazing as Olga."

"Pfft. Whatever floats your boat. C'mon Pheebs. We gotta tally everyone up and finish calculating the budget for this thing."

"Uhm... Gerald was supposed to walk me home, actually. I can stay over tomorrow instead!" The hapa's voice not at all apologetic as Helga wanted it to be.

The blond girl took a deep breath to calm her nerves before turning toward the cheekily smiling football-head, who by this time, was sitting on the stage with his legs dangling behind her. Eugene though, tapped her on the shoulder before she was able to say anything to a now equally confused Arnold.

The redhead seemed nervous, unable to make eye-contact. Helga raised a brow. "Yeah?"

"I just. Uh. Today's act? I uhm. I thought you did really well, and uh. It didn't feel like acting for me...?"

Helga's brow rose even higher as the lanky boy continued, "Since everything is done for the day... I was wondering if you'd like to—"

"No."

Helga's head snapped back at Arnold, who was the one to answer the unsaid question for her. Her eyes narrowed. Arnold slid off the stage, crossing his arms like a tough-guy; to which poor Eugene just laughed nervously and bid a hasty retreat.

Helga was _fuming_. (But the tiniest shred of her was also swooning.) She took him roughly by the shirt-collar, dragging him outside of the building. When they reached the pavement though, Arnold dropped his act.

"Look Helga, I'm sorry. I just I didn't—"

"Didn't what, _Arnoldo_." She seethed, "Didn't think I **wouldn't** _love_ to be manhandled by you **twice** and then _spoken for_ like an eighteenth century bimbo? Who do you suddenly think you are? Where did all this come from?" She was yelling now, shoving him roughly with each question, his own shoulders slumping and face full of regret.

Then she slapped him.

Hard.

He couldn't feel his cheek at first, until the searing pain came up all at once; in the form of a red splotch where the impact hit. His heart fell then; face stinging as he watched her form depart from his, homeward bound. He could hear his blood pump through his ears, a visceral need to right his wrong taking ahold of him. That was it. He was _never_ going to take Gerald's advice about girls ever again. _Especially on someone as complicated as Helga._

She hated herself. But at that moment, she hated him just a little _more_. Helga reasoned that although she really never meant to inflict physical pain on her beloved, he deserved it. And she'll apologize when the need came. But that would not be tonight. She stopped in her tracks though, when she finally heard the rhythmic sound of Arnold's feet catching up to her. All her energy was drained, she had to face him sometime anyway.

She started walking again when he caught up, and they went on like that, in silence; Arnold trying his hardest to realign the jumble of words in his head.

He finally started to speak. "Helga, I'm really really sorry. I'm not good with words. And apparently, with the ladies. I'll never take Gerald's advice seriously again —you'd think what with all the messes I've been in thanks to him—" He realized he was rambling and shook his head, "The point is, I guess you can tell by now, that I behind all that almost-chauvinistic behavior, that I find myself really honestly truly _liking_ you."

He visibly gulped when not even a flicker of response shown on Helga's face. He plowed through, anyway.

"And hindsight being 20/20, I should have just taken Lila's advice, which was put it all out on the table like this, the same thing I would have told myself to do —but with all things that have to do with you, I never completely _know_ how to go about it. How to go about _you._" He was staring at his sneakers as he talked, unaware that the girl next to him was staring wide-eyed.

"And well, I _always_ end up acting on impulse. You probably don't even know how complex you are. I've known you so long, seen at least snippets of every facet of you, and yet I still don't have you figured out yet. And part of me never really wants to. I _like_ how you always surprise me, I _like_ how you've let yourself be more you to everyone, and I find myself wanting to constantly be in your company." Helga's jaw was slack, as he kept on his roll, hands making motions as if trying to grab more of his feelings from the air in front of him.

"I know we haven't talked about it since then, but the FTi thing got me thinking. And well, we drifted apart after that, and even though I told you that we should play it off as spur-of-the-moment, I never truly let it go. In fact," he chuckled, still not looking at Helga's expression, knowing at least that she was listening, "I never realized how much I didn't let it go."

He shook his head, not believing he was about to tell her his secret, "My ex-girlfriends would tell me they loved me, and I'd drop them a week or two after it. And you know why?" He continued, not seeing Helga shake her head, "Because of _you_."

She gasped, him not noticing, still focused on his train of thought; and neither of them conscious of the fact that Helga's house was nearing. "Because with each of their 'I think I love you's, I never felt both frightened to the core and elated..."

The two reached her stoop. "Like I did with you."

He finally, (after what felt like centuries to Helga,) looked into her glistening blue eyes and grinned softly. She launched herself into his arms, unable to speak.

A watery noise came out of Helga, her face buried into his plaid shirt. He held on tighter, gently asking her to repeat what she said.

"Why does everything have to be so damn convoluted with us?"

A bark of laughter escaped his lips when he spun her around. He set her down, planting a kiss on her forehead as he sighed, "Honestly, Helga? I wouldn't have it any other way."

Not letting go of her hand as she went up the steps, their eyes also kept contact. Hers, in a suspension of disbelief, and his, trying their best to reassure her wordlessly. Before she closed the door behind her though, her head poked out, quirking a brow.

"Were you seriously _jealous_ of Eugene? We **all** know he's probably half-gay, and mostly in love with Sheena. Criminy, football-head." She smirked at his beet-red expression.

Closing the door, she dashed upstairs, dropping her backpack in the hallway. Opening her long-since normal closet, she climbed up to the attic wherein lay her volumes of poetry and forgotten boxes of shrine material. Pulling out her newest journal and trusty purple pen, she quickly clicked on the naked light bulb which hung from a banister, and started scribbling furiously.

_Like some squalid ingrate; I've done it once more_

_I've pushed you away, even done what I've swore_

_never to do._

_And yet, as always, my love, my light;_

_your green eyes pierced through me; and like a thief in the night,_

_you stole me away as you always do,_

_unknowingly, unbeknownst; even to you._

_You won me over at first embrace_

_but like a fool I tore through, assuming false-face._

_Then you trailed, blazing behind,_

_ever foolhardy, ever-so kind._

She sighed, not quite yet getting it out of her system.

_For years I have waited for this moment_

_with patience and in silent torment._

_Never in my imagined fanfares_

_was I the one to be caught unawares_

_of **your** own shining confession_

_which brought to light my old childhood obsession._

_It was you_

_it has always been you._

_Yet I never knew_

_it was I as well;_

_I **for** you._

"Oh, Arnold," she swooned, falling back onto the wood paneling with the journal clutched to her chest. Her hair splayed out on the floor like golden ink, pink-striped shirt disheveled and her jean-clad knees remained bent with her feet on the ground.

The boy in question had a new spring to his step, taking out his ringing cell phone to answer his best friend's call. "Gerald, what am I?"

"Uh, you're a bold kid, Arnold. A bold kid."

"Exactly."

"You seem peppy. Did my advice work?"

"It worked to give me a slap."

"Ouch. Sorry bro. I thought you said Helga never laid a finger on you?"

"Yeah well, that was before I tried being a macho-man and intercepting a date proposal from Eugene."

"Eugene? Boy, don't tell me Helga was going to pick The Jinx over _you_. Especially after **that** kiss."

Arnold blushed lightly, stepping aside to let the boarding house animals run out. "She wasn't going to, but it didn't help me to answer for her."

"What? When did I _ever_ say to do that?"

He sighed, walking up the first flight of stairs. "You didn't. But I just. I guess I really did get jealous. I just let impulse drive that decision, and it drove me to a splotched face." His eyes glanced at a mirror in the hallway as he walked past, wincing at the red.

"Mmm. Mm. M. You don't even _know_ how bad you got it."

"I guess I do now."

"Well, was that it? Did you blow it? You seemed a little too happy for someone who just walked the plank."

"No, I actually saved it. I apologized, as I usually do; and I told her everything."

"Everything? Even the whole 'she's the reason you can't accept anyone else's—'"

"Yep."

"She didn't faint, did she?"

"Nope."

"Well then, mission accomplished."

Arnold smiled proudly at his friend's proclamation. It was indeed a very miss-planned, ill-executed mission, but it was accomplished nonetheless. They added in Lila, who, being a teenage girl, wanted every meticulous detail. Blocks away, a very similar conversation between the other blond and Phoebe took place.

* * *

**A/N:** FINALLY, amiright? I apologize profusely if my Helga poetry isn't up to par, I _tried_. But at least we got to relieve some of that URST while seeing that oddly possessive/rebellious side of Arnold and pay witness to Older!Curly/Rhonda/Harold.

—As per usual, please, review!


	5. Act IV: The Wellington Lloyd Inquisition

**Disclaimer / A/N : **All characters belong to Craig Bartlett / Viacom / etc. Teen for situations and language.

Don't forget to review! And I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Blocks away, a very similar conversation between the other blond and Phoebe took place.

At the end of the retelling, both girls screamed, eliciting a quirk of the brow from Big Bob as he passed by. Poking his head into his teenage daughter's room, he caught her attention, gruffly asking, "Should I trust you with the house this weekend? I know you and your little friend _think_ you have it all figured out but..."

Helga glowered, **now** wasn't the time for this lumbering excuse of a father to doubt how responsible she was. _Especially after something so earth-shatteringly unreal just occurred, _she added mentally. Helga sighed, "Hold on Pheebs. Big Bob is suddenly doubling back on his decision." Turning her attention back to her father, she mustered the most adult tone of voice in her arsenal despite the high she was still feeling.

"_Dad_, when you needed to jump-start the company van after closing up the Emporium, _who_ brought our car to the store in one piece even though she was still underage for driving?" She held up a finger to silence his quick retort, "Who mailed the tax returns last month after noticing Miriam dozed off again, three days before they were due? _And_, who's been doing the household chores **each** weekend you and mom go gallivanting around to various business meetings for the past _five years_? I think I'm fully capable of planning a sleep over. _Especially_ with the crowd of non-miscreants I'm inviting."

Big Bob rolled his eyes, "Look little lady, I **don't** appreciate the tone of voice you used, I was mostly joking. But I see your point. And as a business man, I _can _appreciate an argument with multiple positive examples; though —uh— Miriam already told Olga in passing about the play, so your sister might be home this weekend anyway, and it would just be a plus that she'd supervise your little get together."

"**DAD!**"

Big Bob's hands flew up in resignation. "Look kiddo, this one's out of my hands. At least now you should know it wasn't completely an issue of trust." He punched the disgruntled girl affectionately on the shoulder before leaving.

Mildly fuming, she resumed her conversation with Phoebe. "Unforeseen complication, but I don't think it'll be a big one..."

It was late into the night when Helga finally finished her homework, so when a horde of incessant raccoons decided to make their presence known on her window pane that morning, she was _not_ in high spirits. Looking like death, she rolled over to the side of her bed closest to the offending tapping, groggily proceeding to lift up an old baseball bat as she simultaneously opened the window. Her eyes snapped open when a very frightened Arnold skittered backwards on the thick branch by her window.

"Arnold?" she half-shrieked, half-whispered.

The boy rubbed the shoulder of his other arm absently, apologetically grinning at her. "Uh... I wanted to walk with you to school, but then I realized I actually... don't have your cell phone number."

She blinked. Then blinked again. And started melting into a fit of guffaws, falling back onto her bed as Arnold slipped in through her window, landing unceremoniously on the floor when he stumbled over the forgotten baseball bat. Wiping away a few stray tears, she held out her other hand for Arnold.

"Geez _Arnoldo_, couldn't you have been a little more normal and just knocked on the front door?"

A wide grin appeared on his face, raking his free hand through his hair. "I guess I just wanted to surprise you." He chuckled, "I ended up getting surprised myself."

His grin straightened out and his eyes softened at the sight of her. Her hand was still in his, as Arnold's eyes swept over her face, Helga's cheeks dusted pink by all the laughter and hair still a mess. He liked that. Seeing her so... happy first thing in the morning? _Because of __**me**__. Yeah, I could get used to this_. Arnold nodded indignantly, then abruptly climbed back out of the window, hollering at Helga.

"I'll wait down here, hurry up and get ready!"

Helga's hand was still limp in the air where he held it, blue eyes wide, having observed the changes in her beloved's facial expression. _Something was there. But what?_ Before waxing poetic about her _glorious, divine, sublime_ wake up call, (as well as possibly fainting,) she slapped herself from her stupor and went about her morning routine. _After all, my Arnold is waiting. ...__**My**__. Arnold..._

Contrary to Helga's initial suspicion, their dynamic hardly changed as the two strolled to campus together. Their intertwined fingers were the only real shift, (Helga never thought it was physically possible to sweat so much; Arnold assuming it was his own hand). Arnold being the gentleman shrugged on both their backpacks onto one shoulder, and she finally gave him her number. They even bickered good-naturedly, and whined about the assignments that were given the night before. The blonds _looked_ to be like any other newly formed couple.

_Maybe we're finally approaching some remnant of normalcy in our crackpot lives. _He threw a grin at her as she thought this, mentally swearing that she was indeed about to melt because of it. _Right here. On this sidewalk. Helga Geraldine Pataki. Found dead at approx 8am in the morning, in a puddle of self-induced romantic putty. _

Once they walked through the double doors though, all thoughts (poetic or otherwise) ceased within Helga's head, blue eyes frantically darting left and right toward the stares and whispers. Though she assumed the worst, most responses to their public display of affection were positive, if not inquisitive. Winks, thumbs-ups, oohs, and awes... They brought out the shy, blushing part of Helga she hardly even knew existed, and conversely shown Arnold's newly-found crowd pleasing smoothness; with his own acknowledging head-nods and smiles toward their friends.

Until they crossed paths with Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd.

Then the couple was reduced to their elementary school selves. Helga's back tensed at the crossed arms of their red-clad friend. Arnold squeezed her hand reassuringly, looking on with slight-apprehension.

"I knew _something_ was happening, especially after that kiss the other day." Rhonda looked pointedly up at Arnold through her bangs, then slid her eyes toward Helga. "Out with it, Pataki. Maybe even you, Shortman; when, how, where, and _why_." She twirled a finger in her curled hair, looking the two over nonchalantly. "I mean, all of our gang _knew_ it was inevitable, but as self-appointed gossip guru, I need the details."

Both the blonds' eyes grew wide at the statement. Helga quirked a brow, gently letting go of Arnold's hand in favor of folding her own arms. "Wait. Let me get this straight. You're _not_ judging us, and apparently everyone 'shipped' us?"

Knowing Lloyd frequented the internet for celebrity fanfiction, as Helga did for her guilty obsession with Victorian-era English romance novels, the only one who didn't understand the term was Arnold; who just parted the scene with a quick peck at the side of Helga's head and a brief goodbye. With that, both the girls seemed flustered, Rhonda speaking first.

With a slow nod of approval she commented, "You did good for yourself, Pataki. He's been the talk of non PS118ers since freshman year. Pretty charming guy."

Helga shook her head out of a verbose reverie, jealousy suddenly flaring within her. Her eyes flickered toward the slightly taller girl, who nudged her humorously. "Don't worry about anything. You've been able to scare off the toughest guys from hitting on you, I bet any sketch girls would be a piece of cake." She checked her phone clock, "Anyway, we better head to our classes. But I'm cornering you around lunch, got that?"

"Whatever, Princess."

Lunch time rolled around, but before Helga was sought out by the fashionista, she was being prepped by Phoebe; who, not even a week ago was also questioned in the same manner. They found a semi-secluded spot in front of one of the entrances to the cafeteria, Helga leaning on the wall and Phoebe standing before her.

"Don't avoid eye-contact. Make sure to keep things PG if any queries ask for otherwise. Be general about it, there isn't gossip to tell if it's just business as usual, but be genuine, or her and Nadine will just think you're bored or the whole thing is a sham."

"Geez Pheebs, they frisked you good, didn't they."

"You don't even know, Helga. My face was so red from the unnecessarily personal questions that—"

"Oh, there you are!"

Helga rolled her eyes. "Speak of the devil..." Using her shoulder to lazily push herself off the wall, she gave Phoebe a parting wink and followed Rhonda into one of the supply closets.

Raising an eyebrow at the girl, Rhonda shrugged at the unsaid question, responding, "Hey, a girl's gotta work with what she has. Nadine will be with us, writing down the interview."

"Do you run some sort of school-wide gossip blog or something?"

"_I_ ask the questions, Pataki."

Rhonda and Nadine sat across from Helga with a makeshift desk between them, made from two stacks of toilet paper boxes and a piece of plywood. A bulb and its chain swung above them, creating a weird sort of pulsing light that made Helga queasy in spite of the fact that she was trying to keep her cool.

These were her friends, (loosely defined, she admitted; but friends,) after all. _Not some damn Spanish Inquisition_.

"Now, first, we'd both like to congratulate you. Took the two of you long enough; I think the guys had some sort of running bet on it."

Helga scowled. "Is everyone else's lives really this boring?"

"Rhonda and I ask the questions, Helga..." Nadine's practiced tone told Helga everything. Without a blink of response, she slumped into her chair.

"Hit me."

The black haired girl straightened up, rubbing her palms together in delight, as Nadine poised her pencil to a spiral.

"Alright. For how long has this been happening?"

"He asked me out last night."

"No, not that. Obviously it just started today, I meant, _this_." Rhonda wiggled her eyebrows at an unamused Helga.

"I don't..."

"Ugh." She looked over at Nadine, "Forget it. Maybe we'd be better off asking Arnold. Helga's obviously clueless about how love works."

Oh, did **that **get to her. Helga abruptly stood up, slapping a hand onto the plywood. Frightening Nadine a bit, she jerked in surprise, while Rhonda leaned back, smirking. Before Helga was able to defend herself, though; an entire pile of cleaning supplies as well as a mop, fell over behind her. The three girls, startled, watched as a wheezing teen emerged from the heap.

"_BRAINY?_" they exclaimed in unison, simultaneously relaxing.

He smiled apologetically, standing next to Helga. Twiddling his fingers, he looked at his hands. "Helga... uh... knows... a lot... about... love. It's... Arnold... who was... ignorant... of it... the whole... time."

Helga was completely slack-jawed, staring at the nerd. Rhonda just looked absolutely appalled, while Nadine feverishly wrote down this spontaneous twist in information. Quickly regaining their composure, Rhonda leaned forward with raised eyebrows, evidently wanting to learn more from this kid, while Helga reached up to pat Brainy's shoulder.

"Thanks, Brainy. But I can fight my own battles. Shouldn't you go eat? Oh, and don't forget to bring some bitchin remixes for the marathon tomorrow in case there's a lul."

The boy blushed at the casual invitation, shuffling quickly out of the small space.

Rhonda slumped back into her chair, having lost her only source of outside information. (Neither Phoebe nor Gerald buckled during the classes she shared with them.) Continuing, she pointed at Helga's still empty stool, prompting the blond to sit back down. "So, what do you know about love then?"

"It waits."

Helga smirked at her own double-entendre, Rhonda huffing in frustration. "C'mon, Helga. There's no need to fight this."

"You're asking me irrelevant questions!" She waved her arms exasperatingly, "Criminy, you two! He walked me home yesterday and told me he's liked me for a while; _that's all_. Yeah, he kissed me, but I sure as hell didn't plan _that_ one."

"That _one_?"

Nadine quietly spoke up, "You've _planned_ others?"

Helga remained tight-lipped and narrow-eyed, causing the two girls to drop it. Though the feisty Pataki hasn't beaten anyone up in a long while, they weren't about to temp fate. Rhonda let out a bored 'hm', tapping her chin and turning to her best friend.

"See, this is why we should have just asked Arnold. It _was_ his plan after all, not hers." She looked over at Helga. "You're free to go."

"Uh. Okay."

Walking back into the hallway, she wasn't going to lie to herself about it. She was relieved to be dismissed, but a little nervous for Arnold. _The football head might end up breaking_... Rounding the corner, something collided against her.

"Helga!" / "Arnold."

He stood up first, dusting off his pants before holding out his hand. She, of course, took it as he smirked. "We've gotta stop meeting like this. I was looking for you, English is starting soon."

She would have swooned, especially knowing that he wasn't going to let go when she was finally upright again; but the ambiguous fear of him accidentally giving out too much information that he wasn't comfortable in sharing, was gnawing at Helga. He picked up on her anxiousness, looking at her quizzically.

She looked sharply at him, and in a low tone warned, "If you find yourself alone with the princess, don't let her best you."

He looked back incredulously, shaking his head. "Whatever you say, Helga."

**Act IV**

After Gerald and Phoebe switched between one another to tell a lengthy recap of the first three acts, (accompanied by a fitting piece from the orchestra,) the lights dimmed along with the music, and Rhonda took center stage when the other two walked off.

_Despite the ending of their last outing, our suitor was unfazed. In fact, it doubled his determination, convincing himself that because she agreed to see him after the seemingly negative event, she indeed **loved** him too. Or maybe, she could one day learn to. ...And if need be, he was willing to wait... If she was willing to stay. Stay with him._

She stepped off the stage.

On one knee before Helga, was Eugene; his face both concerned and pleading, he reached for her left hand. "_Darling... you know that in the time I have known you, I've quickly fell victim to one of the most intense emotions a man could ever have for a woman... and I know you may not yet reciprocate it in the same depth, but I want to ask for your hand—_"

A piercing cry of the violin halted the red-head's line. Arnold stepped out of the shadows, accompanied by a spotlight. He donned a stone-cold expression, replacing his usual half-lidded stare. Eugene stood up.

"_W-What?_" cried Helga, in the direction of the interruption. "_How did you find us?_" She retracted her hand quickly from the freckled boy, as if she had been burnt.

Arnold approached, standing next to his love interest, a gentle tone responding to her question. She huffed though, balling up her fists into her dress, turning her head away from his.

"_I...I could very well have said no __**myself**__, thank you very much._" (Déjà vu...)

"—You were going to say no?" asked the red-head in a small voice. But neither of them were listening, bickering amongst themselves in their music-speak that only she understood. Eugene clenched his jaw, shoving the blond boy away from Helga, evidently directing his anger from this loss, to Arnold.

"_Sir, I don't know who you are, but I do not agree with this. What did you want to accomplish with your—your intrusion?_"

Letting out a frustrated exhalation, Arnold quickly played a rather low response, pointedly staring at Helga in order to get his message across. It didn't work though, as the ex-suitor only seemed more confused. Judging by the silence after her music-boy's explanation, the girl sighed tiredly.

The spotlight faded on, focusing on Helga, the rest of the stage lights dimming just a smidge.

"_We've known eachother since we were children... He wanted to prove his love for me._" She shook her head, her hand flying up in frustration toward the blond boy, the next few words slipping out as if an afterthought. "_Which I think was a highly foolish plan because I already know he loves me and I can't feel anything else but love for him as well!_"

A clatter of the violin was heard, (which was expertly switched off during Helga's lines for a dummy instrument) as Eugene's character found himself once again in anger. The stage lights normalized.

"_Then what have you been doing with me for the past three weeks? Is this just child's play to you? Do I present myself like a jester?_"

His arms were gesturing wildly, eyes tinged red from frustrated tears. Helga dropped to her knees, her own eyes glassy already, as Arnold rushed to her side. She opened her mouth, desperate to respond, but Eugene's character was already backing away from the two.

"_**No**__. I'm not sure how much more heartache a man can take. You do not know how deep of a wound you have inflicted._" Every word dripped with poisonous disdain. "_I was aware from the start that you were blind, __**but I did not know you cannot see as well**__._"

The stage lights dimmed on the actors, frozen at their spots when Phoebe stepped in.

_Those words pierced our heroine's heart like no other. For although she lacked a sense which was deemed to be essential for daily living, she thought that through hearing and smelling and just **feeling** everything, that she acquired the ability to **know** people, for **who** they are... If not by how they appear to be._

Rhonda walked into the opposite end of the stage.

_And yet, toward a man who has shown her only affection, she merely saw a means to her own end; someone her family and her obligations felt were fit for her future. ...And nothing more. Her sight of him only consisted of what she wanted to see, rather than what was truly there. **Who** was truly there._

_She became the one thing she despised most about others._

Rhonda disappeared, the lights going on once again to the actors who regained their composure.

Helga stood up. "_Wait_!" she ran after the red-head, who was briskly walking away. Arnold's hand dramatically reached out for her, letting her hand finally slide out from his grasp when she turned her head toward him. Some of her hair fell out of its tightly pinned bun due to all the movement, her cheeks glistening with stage-tears.

"_I've got to go after him, he deserves more than a mere offhand explanation to my actions! I cannot let his heart be hardened by my one act of carelessness!_"

The music-boy's shoulders slumped in defeat, knowing that this was something she had to do.

Helga caught up with Eugene, one hand holding up the hem of her dress, and the other luckily snatching a handful of his clothing to spin him around toward her.

"_I did not know I loved him until last night. I needed to meet with you today in order to tell you everything in its entirety, but I never took into account your own feelings on the matter and what you would have thought this meeting meant. I believe in this brief span of time I've come to know you, I have forged a bond with you, but I must be honest and you should already know my own feelings on the matter. I do not want to repeat it, but I do want you to know you are indeed a wonderful man. A man who has only shown me the up-most best in him, and whatever woman is lucky to fall in love with you, I could only hope you see that and love her too. Forget about me and my foolishness, my selfishness; if you wish. But do not let me taint your stance on love._"

Her breath was raspy, and Eugene's own eyes were watering; not at all scripted. He reached up to touch her cheek.

"_I... I cannot forget you. You are not selfish, nor foolish. You are in love. Just... not with me. And... And although you will not agree to a promise of a me __**and**__ you, I do promise __**to**__ you that I will attempt to find another. But I do not think it will be for a very long time._"

His fingers grazed the fringe of her bangs, looking at her with so much longing. "_So goodbye, darling. Be merry with your music man._"

Again, the two had to feign stillness as the lights dimmed once more to Gerald, who was now sitting at the edge of the stage.

_And so, she did.. Living in the palace they've painted together._

He turned his head toward center stage, where the lights came on again. A flurry of epilogue scenes were shown, the orchestra pit once again coming to life. An alter and their wedding guests, a kiss, a baby, and a dancing violinist (Arnold; to amuse the child), whose own music coincided with the orchestra's. With the last flourish, the curtain dropped.

Simmons' nose-blowing was heard, echoing in the now relatively silent theater, when the cast all stepped before the curtain, bowing at their bawling teacher.

"Bravo, bravo! Crew, please come to join us; I feel it in my bones, you guys. You'll be ready come opening night. Of course, there will still be run-throughs to smooth out a few wrinkles, easier transitions and quicker prop changes, please! Have a special Friday you guys, Saturday's finally approaching!"

Again, Simmons departed from his students, as Helga whistled to wrangle up the troops. "For those who are coming tomorrow after the play, if you don't want to pitch in money-wise, be sure to bring something for all of us to eat or drink. **No** alcohol! Also, Pheebs and I will calculate everything to be at most five bucks; so don't worry about it being overly expensive or anything."

Arnold and Gerald shared a look, pleasantly surprised by possibly the one debauched deed Helga would ban. _No doubt she'd set fire to the school if she had the chance,_ chuckled Gerald to himself. Then he corrected his thought; _No, no that would be Curly_.

As if on cue, the fruitloop swung from his post at the catwalk onto the stage with the rest of them, with a manic laugh and yelling in tune, "The party don't start till I walk in!"

No one moved a muscle at this display, save for Helga who slapped a palm to her forehead. Years ago, she had to have joint therapy sessions with him under Dr. Bliss's instructions, hoping for some progress if he had someone to work with.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she shook her head. _Nope. Barely; if at all... but high places just bring out his inner freak_.

"Yo, weirdo, get offa that thing. You're not as light as you used to be!" Called out Helga, beating Rhonda by a second who was also about to coax the kid down.

Everyone lined up in front of Phoebe to list down what they were bringing, as Gerald and Arnold waited for their girls. But Helga ushered them out, telling them that that the two girls will be walking back together since Phoebe was supposed to stay over.

That left Arnold to tripping at the exit of the theater, trying to follow Gerald, and finding his shoes inexplicably tied together. Since Gerald was called by his mom to pick up Timberly from ballet practice, he had to go ahead and walk home as his best friend frustratedly pulled at his laces.

"Sorry Arnold."

He looked up at Nadine, confused as all heck. "Wait, you tied my shoes together?"

Without another breath, she knelt down and threaded something through his belt loop, using it to yank him along a skateboard he didn't even know he was squatting on.

"What on—"

The two quickly arrived at the mouth of an alley by the school; Arnold still unable to untie that blasted knot, almost-frantic due to the complete ridiculousness of the entire situation. Out from the shadows, stepped in a looming figure.

"Hello, Arnold."

"Rhonda? What. You could have just _simply asked_ to talk to me or something, instead of making Nadine—"

"Actually, she insisted," shrugged the girl.

Nadine smiled apologetically. "I haven't done anything close to capturing animals since I was a kid. Thought it'd be fun. Didn't hurt you, did I?"

"N-no, but I still can't untie this..." He dropped down to sit on his bottom, weakly raising his ankles for emphasis.

Before Nadine was able to kneel down and undo the knot, Rhonda held out an arm.

"Nah, this is more fun."

Shrugging, she backed off, letting Rhonda speak again.

"So, Helga didn't tell us much, though she did let us know that this was all _your_ idea. Also, do you know anything about what's between her and Brainy?"

Arnold vaguely remembered Helga's warning about something like this. Sighing, he decided to just comply unless it became too personal.

"Uh, yeah that's true. And I've no clue what you're talking about."

"Don't worry about it I guess. So, let us know what your master plan is, _Arnold_. Have you been working on it all this time, or just decided to _sweep off her feet at the spur of the moment_?"

"It was pretty romantic what you did on stage, Arnold." Nadine sighed dreamily.

Blushing slightly, he stuttered, "Well, uh, thanks... I-I think it was a little of both? I didn't drop many hints and I didn't tell her that kiss was going to happen; but I have liked her for... for a while."

"_Like_, Arnold? **Curly** likes me. Harold likes me. A whole slew of guys _like_ me. But you don't see them lip-locking me at random (_thank God_). It's gotta be something more than _that_, Arnold."

"We're only seventeen."

"Yeah but we've all known each other for so long; high school might as well be our class's ongoing tenth anniversary reunion or something. It's the weirdest thing."

Arnold _knew_ he liked Helga. And yeah, of course it was more than _just_ like... but was something as intrinsic as the core of what he feels for that blond-haired jigsaw puzzle something he was ready to face; let alone share with this person who had no regards to others' privacy?

Arnold's honest gut won over his own inhibitions. "Look Nadine, Rhonda;" He made eye-contact with each of them. "I don't _know_ if I love her yet. ...I admit, something's been there for years; but I'm _only now_ falling for her. Now, if you guys choose to let this out through the grapevine, I can't stop you. But it might prematurely endanger Helga and I's fairly new relationship somehow, and we'll lose whatever it is we have."

The three exchanged looks as the two girls finally sighed and helped to both pull Arnold upright as well as de-knot his shoes.

* * *

**A/N:** Welp, interrogations left and right; and opening night tomorrow? Hot damn. Wonder how Olga's doing... Also, Rhonda's observations are pretty meta, if I do say so myself.

If you guys get antsy waiting for the next chapter, I'm also working on a more adventure-like fic, _Cold Sweat_, on my profile. Check it out if you're interested!


	6. It's Showtime

**Disclaimer / A/N : **All characters belong to Craig Bartlett / Viacom / etc. Teen for situations and language.

Happy first day of class for some of you folks; this chapter's a prize for those who survived. For the lucky few who have yet to start the next school year, here's a last-minute fictional getaway from the burdens of oncoming reality.

On with ze show. Please review!

* * *

The three exchanged looks as the two girls finally sighed and helped to both pull Arnold upright as well as de-knot his shoes.

Arnold, always mindful of these things, thanked the two before heading straight toward Helga's, where he _assumed_ the best friends were going to stay at for the night.

Unbeknownst to Arnold, during his interrogation, Phoebe suggested the sleepover to be moved to her house. "Since this weekend, _everyone_ will be at yours; we should balance the load between us. Mi casa es su casa," the hapa chuckled nervously. Helga complied without a second thought.

Though the reasoning behind the switch-over didn't truly make sense, Big Bob dropped a hint to Phoebe earlier that morning. The gray-haired man intentionally drove by her and Gerald on his way to work; frantically asking the girl to keep Helga from the Pataki residence until tomorrow. "It's for the good of all of us," was what he ominously left the couple with.

So now, we have the oblong-headed boy making his way up the Pataki's stoop, and ringing the doorbell. He expected Helga, or possibly Phoebe to greet him; but instead, a rather springy and obviously pregnant blond enthusiastically pulled him into an embrace without so much as a 'Hey'.

"Oh baby sister! I've missed you so much! How tall you've gotten; how ...muscular?"

She quickly pushed the limp boy away, and Arnold smiled at her apologetically. "Sorry uh, Olga. I'm here to talk to Helga..." He started nervously looking around for any sight of his girlfriend.

"Oh, well. Sorry Arnold; as you can tell by my hug, I haven't actually _seen_ my sister... so..."

Miriam's head popped into view of the front hallway. Pushing her glasses up, she drawled, "Oh, Helga? She's going to be staying at her little friend Phoebe's!"

Both blonds nodded slowly at the statement. Arnold stepped backwards out through the still-open door, onto the stoop again to take his leave.

"Well. Congratulations on the baby..." Waving quickly, he dashed out of sight.

_That. That was awkward._

Thinking it would take too much effort to get to Phoebe's, (and by then would probably be interrupting something), he shrugged off his initial drive to inform Helga face-to-face about the impromptu interview and chose instead to simply text her to call him back sometime.

Meanwhile, Helga was trying desperately to avoid dishing out too many details of her inner turmoil between habit and scripted interaction. With every show of affection, she swore she had half the mind to run away to a secluded corner in a mixture of complete disbelief and self-denial. She didn't want to tell Phoebe though, reasoning that because she has yet to act upon those impulses, there was nothing to voice out.

_No harm, no foul; right?_

"So he hasn't kissed you since the play?" Phoebe casually asked, breaking the lull of Helga's unpacking.

"Well, I mean; he's planted some on my cheek or forehead or whatever. I think it'd be really weird if we just started making out everywhere." _Not that I'd __**mind**__..._

The other girl blushed, keeping quiet about her own relationship's shift. Helga continued on with a smirk, sensing the hesitation. "Don't get me wrong, Pheebs. **You and Geraldo** have a _totally_ different paradigm set up, y'know? You never verbally/semi-psychologically assaulted him while growing up." Helga snorted. "Wow, that sounded way worse out loud. Was I really that bad?"

Giggling, Phoebe scribbled down the last of the numbers to crunch. "You weren't. Maybe, maybe to someone who didn't understand you —like Gerald initially; but I think Arnold understood. He always has (at least slightly), hasn't he? Think about that one thanksgiving when you two basically spent the entire time together. All those projects throughout the years you two were paired together. From what I recall, you guys actually don't fight _that_ often." She marinated her observation in the air before continuing. "Those little bubbles of time together allowed him to know there was more to you. Give the both of you more credit, Helga."

The blond nodded, recollections of Mr. Simmons' family flooding back, and the mini-memories of in-class projects they've done. "You have the memory of an elephant, Pheebs."

"—Which I find ironic since you used to always tell me to 'forget' one thing or another." Phoebe cheekily smiled when her best friend playfully chucked a pillow at her.

"Shut up. Wise-ass." Helga rubbed her palms together. "So, what are the numbers telling us? I've got a list of those who aren't bringing money; I'll make sure to follow up on people's offers when I see them during the day."

Heating up microwave dinners for the two of them, they chatted about their budding romances; about their philosophies on the near-future, about the little obsessions they were willing to share with one another. (Phoebe's interest in the educational revolution, and Helga's take on America's sudden literary propulsion toward fantasy-romance). They reveled in the surprising lack of homework for the weekend or exams for the upcoming week. Helga even showed the heart-fluttering text from Arnold, (which was only noteworthy for Helga because of the small emoticon heart); but decided against calling him that night, knowing that this was her and Phoebe's time. (She replied exactly that). The two boys were most likely going to meet up in the morning with them anyway.

Then Phoebe said something quite peculiar.

"My parents are planning to see the play tomorrow. Is that alright?"

Helga laughed, not quite understanding. "It's no skin offa my nose Phoebe. Since when did you need my permission for your parents to watch you?"

"...Actually, they're coming to see _you_." Phoebe shrugged slightly, chuckling. "I ranted and raved about your rehearsal performances; and seeing as how we're sort of your second family, they wanted to pay witness to this 'different side' of you."

"They know you're in it too, right?"

"Of course! Don't be silly. But they've heard me practice my lines over and over again, I'm sure they've got my part memorized."

"Well, I'm... I'm flattered. To be honest, I always thought —especially on particularly bad weeks when I had to stay here often— that they were... burdened by me." Helga averted her gaze, idly straightening out her sleeping bag.

The shorter girl leaned forward on her bed and reached out to place a hand onto Helga's shoulder. "No, never. They never even gave it a second thought. You're always welcome here."

Sharing a small warm hug, the two girls retired for the night.

Helga's instincts were right on the money the next day, when the girls emerged from the Hyerdahl homestead, finding their significant others leaning casually on the railing of the stoop. Though she _did_ predict it, a thrill of giddiness still made its way through her; escalating exponentially when Arnold's hand slipped effortlessly in hers, coupling that action with an expertly placed morning kiss at the arch of her brow. He wanted so much to tell her how bluer her eyes seemed in the morning, when suddenly, they swiftly closed.

_My prince. My angel. I feel as if any tears in my eyes could be faulted as morning dewdrops... With the sunlight in your golden threads of hair, it's as if I'm bathed in the afterglow of your dawn. I am but the humble moon to your sun, glittering simply because of your presence; your light._

She looked on, beaming at the sight of Phoebe, who was wrapped in the nook of Gerald's arm as they headed off to the school. Arnold watched her this entire time, unable to verbally process his own awe of her.

_She always seems to throw me off in the mornings._

Each run through of the play went increasingly better. Simmons ordered pizza for lunch and provided refreshments for those who had no parts during certain sections of the narrative; Thad suppressed his insanity (which may or may not break later), and Lila mended costumes occasionally. Before they knew it, everyone had to take their places as the audience started trickling in.

A full house.

Peeking out from behind the curtain, Helga noticed that even parents of stage-hands were there; along with her own parents (and an endearingly excited Olga).

_Criminy._

A chin rested itself atop her head and she stiffened.

Arnold spoke, also surveying the crowd and finding the entirety of Sunset Arms seated. "Full house, huh. Good thing it's only a one night show."

A voice softly spoke from behind them, "I think it's a pity though, the play is beautiful, and you guys have added so much magic to it..."

Lila smiled at the two, afraid she might've ruined a moment. Helga crossed her arms, effectively dropping the curtain and opened her mouth to address the red-head, but Arnold reacted first, straightening up and grinning brightly at his friend.

"Thanks Lila. But all I did was memorize a few songs—"

"—Uh, and nonchalantly **learn how to play the damn violin**, because you know; that's something the football head just _does_ once in a while." smirked Helga. She turned to Lila, avoiding eye contact, but smiled slightly.

"Thanks. Don't forget the bean dip as promised."

Lila's smile grew, happy to have been acknowledged in a positive way. "Campfire Lass's Honor."

Simmons gathered them around, minutes before their showing, biting his lip before taking a deep breath and speaking. His eyes glanced over at everyone. "Cast, crew, what-have-you... Let me tell you guys. There's something a little more powerful than luck that has kept you all together over the years, and it may just be me over-exaggerating as I usually do; but I truly believe it was all for the purpose of making this dream of mine finally become something tangible. I feel both honored and humbled by working with such an extraordinary group of people as my PS118ers, who bring uniquely vibrant tapestry into whatever they commit to. I'd love very much to thank each and every one of you personally, but we've got a fairytale to bring to life!"

The now silently-sobbing man brought his hand in for spirit fingers, everyone else doing the same. Dispersing in a fireworks of limbs and stage-shoe clicks, the students put on their game faces and set out to make Simmons feel even more proud.

After a long prologue of characters whirl-winding about the stage, supposedly representing the passage of time, the spotlight shown only upon the girl, and the boy. _"Paint me a palace,"_ she ordered.

...

Between Acts II and III, a brief intermission was scheduled, that allowed the audience a bathroom break or a stop at the concessions for snacks; but behind the closed curtain, _everyone_ was abuzz with their own specific task. Costume changes and repairs were needed, the changing of set props and stage-lights, as well as last-minute script look overs.

Then the crowd was once again immersed in the narrative (permanent script changes with kissing and all).

At the end of the finale, when everyone lined up at the front of the stage; all of them became misty-eyed at the sight. The whole of the theater was out of their seats, in full standing ovation. Appreciative hollers and shouts were thrown their way; even the orchestra pit seemed awed by the reaction. It was a story told before, but nothing was quite like this.

Olga ran toward Helga, almost knocking her flat with the sudden weight, mascara (as always) dripping freely down her cheeks. She started yacking Helga's ear off about the play as Big Bob hastily shoved a bouquet of roses at Helga's hands and Miriam lightly squeezed her younger daughter's arm. Both parents placed a small kiss at the crown of her head before quickly departing to their red-eye flight.

Arnold found himself watching her again, the crowd between them (even the ecstatic boarders) blurring around him. He was so happy for her. Happy because it seemed as though her family _has_ changed (albeit slightly). Eventually, Olga departed for home first, to tidy up the house a bit, leaving Helga to be approached by the Hyerdahl clan; Arnold, the Johansons.

The four party planners, having brought their overnight things, headed straight for the Pataki's; ready to take on the night.

After much furniture moving and huffing (mostly by the guys), everyone arrived just on time for the large order of Asian delivery that Gerald had a discount for. (Something about a Johanson dinner disaster that needed compensating.)

"—Which was _completely_ Timberly's fault. Fourteen year olds and their cell phones, amiright?" Gerald humorously shrugged after the explanation.

Eugene brought a huge bowl of assorted peanuts to celebrate the triumphant success of his allergy shots (allowing him to finally be in the same room as the blasted things); Lorenzo brought his own set of speakers to hook up to Brainy's laptop; Sheena (along with the help of Nadine) brought beanbag chairs; Sid, Stinky, and Harold provided an array of desserts that they all pitched in to make/buy; and Iggy brought a whole slew of boardgames. Thad was no where to be seen, and couldn't be reached.

Fashionably late and last to arrive was Rhonda. Helga opened the door, scowl evident as ever, deepening when the taller girl swung her contribution up to Helga's eye level. "Drinks?"

The brunette rolled her eyes. "That _is_ what I said I'd bring, Helga."

"I said no alcohol."

Rhonda stuck her free arm out, stopping the blond from closing the door; causing a scene that everyone inside craned their necks to watch. "Don't be such a stick in the mud Pataki, they're _just_ wine coolers." She looked at Nadine, who shrugged helplessly.

Helga exhaled deeply, exasperated by the situation. "Look _Princess_, my house; my rules. Now if you excuse me, we're just about to start the first movie."

Rhonda tapped her foot in annoyance, but complied by chucking the packs into the trashcan by the stoop. "_Q__uel gaspillage,_*" she muttered in horrible French. "Hold on then. I'll go get some _Caprisuns_ or something at the corner store."

After that slight hiccup, the event went on smoothly, ten minute breaks planned between each movie. By the fourth installment of the series though, people were getting pretty antsy, so Helga decided to grace the troops with a longer break filled with Brainy's remixes and some of the provided boardgames. (Thad was still absent.)

"Baby sister?" Olga's head peeked into the living room at the entrance of the kitchen, painfully bored from reading a novel when she was able to hear all the screams and blood-splatter just down the stairs.

"Yeah, coming. Gotta get a drink anyway." She excused herself from the large circle of friends and pushed the swinging door wider, allowing herself in as well as prompting her older sister to step back. "What's up?"

Grabbing a Yahoo, she leaned onto the counter, meeting the bright gaze of the older Pataki. "Nothing really; but I was wondering if it would be a bother for me to join in your little soiree. Having that conversation with Lila after dinner was nice, but when I was in my old room, I couldn't help but think that the book I was reading suddenly dragged along awfully slow..." She meekly smiled at her younger sibling, always tiptoeing around their fragile relationship.

Helga's own gaze softened at her older sister, realizing she never even gave her sibling a second thought when she asked Olga to keep to herself for the night; all by her lonesome upstairs. She thought about her sister's baby, though. "I... I don't think anyone will _mind_, but shouldn't you be asleep by now? You're not exactly the un-pregnant college student I remember... When are you due anyway?"

Olga giggled, "Oh don't be silly, baby sister! One or two late nights won't kill me. Half a month. Plenty of time to be rebellious."

All of the sudden, Arnold made his way into the kitchen, nonchalantly grabbing his own Yahoo and planting a quick peck on Helga's cheek. He then gave an acknowledging head-nod at Olga and walked out.

Olga's head was swiveling between her sister and the still-swinging door. "Baby... sister?" Her stunned expression evolved into one of elation, compulsivley grabbing onto her belly as she waddled closer to her sibling. "You better tell me right now what's going on! All your letters mention nothing about **a boy**, let alone _Arnold_!"

By this time, Helga's entire face was red, never used to so many people so _interested_ in her love-life. She wasn't surprised though, it was Olga after all. _We're both suckers for love stories_. Helga glanced toward the door, and then the clock, sighing as she pulled out a chair for Olga to sit in; plopped into a stool opposite the bob-cut blond.

Helga decided at that moment to tell her everything. _Okay, so maybe the decision was a little pre-determined, but I never planned on it being __**now**__,_ she reflected. Throughout Helga's life, Olga has been such an open book, that the younger sister concluded it was about high time to return the favor. _At least this once._ During Olga's uphill battle in marrying her husband Maddock, Olga's only confidant was Helga; which both honored and took the younger girl down a few notches, bringing their relationship up a few levels.

By everything, she meant _everything_. The statues, the locket (which she shyly pulled out), the volumes upon volumes of poetry, her spy-like escapades to retrieve various things from the boarding house, the tower confession and his own emotional repercussions; the summer he went missing, and everything else in between. Even the gradual drifting apart throughout middle school, and finally where they were now; with Helga desperately trying to simultaneously take everything in and take care of her dwindling sanity. She kept her voice low, careful to keep an eye on both the kitchen's entrances; and spoke quickly, in short sentences when able (sometimes letting her poetic-side slip out) and finished with a long, drawn-out sigh, just like how she began.

Again, Olga's mascara was flowing, causing Helga to chuckle. "Geez, do you wear that much makeup when you go to sleep?"

Not even listening, the older blond made her way toward her sister, crushing her in a hug. Eventually, after Olga got herself together, they made it to the living room where Helga resumed her hosting and Olga watched the younger adults amusingly. Surprisingly, Lila _didn't_ automatically go to the older Pataki's side, opting to finish up her (Helga noted— _Flirty?_) conversation with a beet-red Brainy.

_I should be a professional matchmaker or something._

"Helga, you should join us!" Sheena waved the blond over, continuing, "We're just starting Never-Have-I-Ever! Losers - whoever's (10) fingers run out first - have to do a dare, and last person whose left has to answer a truth."

Harold piped up, "Yeah, sorta like those combination Mr. Fudgy's; a two-for-one!"

Helga smiled dryly in response, _knowing_ her life was pretty boring. She was right.

Her and Phoebe were the last two left, Helga still holding one hand up and Phoebe three fingers; respectively. Arnold dropped his hands about the same time as Gerald, the blond apparently _Had at least a cup of Alcohol, Went to a post-midnight party (not counting this one), Been to another country, Hijacked a vehicle, _and _Saved a life, _among other new tidbits Helga decided to keep filed at the back of her mind. She did however, had the pleasure of knowing she shared at least _some_ of these experiences with him. In this brief stint of reverie, she failed to notice that Phoebe beat her by one finger.

Sid rubbed his hands together, grinning mischievously. But before he was able to utter a word, Nadine's voice softly silenced the bunch.

"How long have you liked Arnold?"

The boy in question instinctively caught-eyes with Helga, who didn't even react. Her mouth opened to answer, but then a piercing cry broke everyone's rapt attention.

Olga doubled over on the couch, next to a distressed Lila; causing Helga to bolt up and calmly, yet quickly make her way through the forming crowd.

Taking over as Helga always seemed to be able to, she sent out rapid-fire instructions while helping up her sister. "Guys, party's over until further notice! Contact Phoebe, Gerald, Arnold or I if you guys want to continue the marathon at some other time; but for now, everyone leave! Phoebe, call an ambulance. Breathe Olga, breathe!"

* * *

**A/N: ***Quel gaspillage - French - What a waste.

Keep the reviews coming guys; I truly appreciate them!


	7. Oh, Bloody Hell

**Disclaimer / A/N : **All characters belong to Craig Bartlett / Viacom / etc. Teen for situations and language.

My sincerest apologies for the long await, but here's the next chapter! School sucks.

* * *

Maddock grew up without siblings. His family backpacked through Europe throughout his childhood until right before he entered middle school, and had a hard time with the public school children during those awkward years. He longed to help, though. He always stood up for the little guy, and had a heart with a propulsion toward empathy. When college came around, he proudly told his parents he wasn't going.

Instead, pulled up his bootstraps and he started his own volunteer-philanthropy group, which was funded solely (and generously) by various families of friends whom he's aided over the years, and used this pseudo-organization to travel the country and provide basic self-sustaining strategies to rural villages worldwide. Though he himself had no penny to his name (something the Pataki in-laws loathed), he was surely a rich man.

And then he met _Miss Olga Pataki_, who taught English to a modest population of children in a quaint igloo-town at the Arctic Circle— he was quoted (later on) from his vows to have felt, "My heart drop to my stomach as if I were on the Hurl-a-whirl at home. Olga; you've always felt like home."

Maddock wasn't the type of man who would (during normal circumstances) leave his pregnant wife to fend for herself so close to labor. But he also wasn't the type of man to let an entire tribe of people succumb to the pressures of the government that so tyrannically reduced the size of their sacred land. So with Olga's relentless insistence and the sheer fact that the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few, he set off two months ago to help the people who made his wedding day so memorable.

"Honey, you'll be back plenty of time before the baby's born, I'm sure of it! Besides, if I were in your shoes, I would have been out there without so much as a second thought."

"Lies. All lies, woman!" He pouted, pointing at the blond. "I know for the fact that if I were the pregnant one, you'd be just as doting, if not even moreso —look at how you are with Helga!"

"Don't bring my baby sister into this." Olga huffed, crossing her arms. "Besides," she shook her head, "This conversation is getting kind of strange, Maddock."

He nervously ran a hand through his red locks, pacing before the mother of his unborn child.

Her voice softened at the sight. "I'll be fine. Right now, they need you more than I do."

"Guys, party's over until further notice! Contact Phoebe, Gerald, Arnold or I if you guys want to continue the marathon at some other time; but for now, everyone leave! Phoebe, call an ambulance. Breathe Olga, breathe!"

Before the gang was about to make way for the sisters, Curly burst forth from the direction of the kitchen, covered head to toe in blood. Harold screamed, running for a corner of the room and calling out for his mommy; Sid shrieked, promptly fainting, eliciting a sort of chain reaction from everyone else —an ambiance of mass hysteria greeted the gang like an old friend.

Eugene jumped into Sheena's arms, Rhonda clutched Nadine, frantically reaching for her cell phone; Stinky and Iggy were backing slowly away from everyone, Lorenzo crouched behind a beanbag at fetal-position, rocking back and forth in a corner, and both Lila and Brainy were stock-still, color drained from both their faces.

Curly pressed the back of his blood-soaked hand onto Olga's terrified forehead, feeling for her temperature, simultaneously putting gentle pressure on her stomach. Helga looked on, her expression completely bewildered, and Phoebe stuck two fingers into her mouth, creating a sharp whistle. Everyone froze as she stepped up to regain control.

"Gerald! Arnold! Get some warm water for Olga!" Looking back, she sternly nodded at her friend. "I've called an ambulance, they should be here soon. Everyone else? You've gotta go! _Obviously_, Curly's fine!" She grit her teeth, swallowing hard and avoiding the realistically-gruesome sight behind her. (Phoebe_ hates _blood.) "Right Curly?"

Looking up from concentrating on the task at hand, he lit up with a charming smile. "Thanks for asking, doll-face. I'm fine and dandy! No need to worry about ole' Thaddeus Gammelthorpe!"

Lila raised her hand up wordlessly, pointing at the boy; lip quivering in an attempt to talk. Thad picked up on it, looking down at himself. "Oh, yeah. The blood!" He chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "I was supposed to come in earlier to scare the living daylights out of you guys —as my contribution," he bowed graciously, "but then I fell asleep in the pantry."

The boys came back with warm water and facial towels, having heard the tail-end of Curly's explanation. Gerald added (as if to back up Thad's story), "Yeah, there are footprints left all across the kitchen."

All three guys proceeded to pat the towels onto Olga's face and neck, as she tried remembering her La Mas breathing techniques and yelped uncontrollably at the sharp pains coming from her abdomen. Helga finally opened the door for the paramedics to come through, letting her ride in the ambulance with her sister while bringing Olga's overnight bag.

"How bout that kid! Is _he_ alright?" One of the burly paramedics called out.

Helga waved her hand, annoyed. "Yeah yeah, the idiot just thought he'd pull a prank on us!"

She tossed the keys of the Pataki car to Arnold before leaving, exchanging a telepathic message. The three party-planners made sure everyone got out safely, watching Thad (the last one to leave), trail blood all down the sidewalk.

"Man, this? This was crazy. This is _precisely_ why our fourth grade class should never hang out again. Shit like this _always_ happens to us!" Gerald shook his head exasperatedly, "_Mmm. Mm. M._" and threw his arms up in the air.

Arnold laughed, "Yeah but, I really **like** that about us."

Gerald continued, pointing at a finger for each instance he named. "Let's see. Wheezin' Ed. That one Halloween the other kids dressed up as aliens. The Headless Cabbie. Ghost bride! **That **one, Curly dressed up for, too!"

Chuckling, Arnold responded, "Wow Gerald, you have the memory of an elephant. Maybe we should just stop doing scary things together, instead of completely cutting ties with everyone."

Phoebe's voice interjected as she pushed her glasses up. "Well, I haven't had excitement like this in a while, actually. Quite refreshing."

"Oh, and _you_!" Gerald pointed at the wide-eyed girl, shivering slightly. "God, I had war flashbacks from that time you were hall monitor after Helga! It was borderline terrifying. If I weren't dating you; I'm sure I would've bolted out of there the minute you whistled."

The trio shared a warm laugh before Arnold checked the time on his watch. "Well, I think it's about time I head to the hospital. Phoebe, you wanna come with me?"

The girl shook her head, "I think Gerald and I should stay back and clean up for a bit. I have a spare key. Also, I know where things are supposed to go, and heaven forbid —if Helga's parents come back early and find a trail of blood on the floor— I just. I don't know what they'd do..."

"Good thinking."

Arnold made his way to the hospital, completely lost on the almost-deserted first floor until a young woman came up to him with a wide smile.

"Hey, Arnold right?"

Arnold looked at the brunette questioningly, before smiling nervously and politely greeting her back. "Yeah. Hi."

"It's me. Ruth. Ruth McDougal?"

"Oh! L-long time no see! You're a nurse?"

"Nah, just a part-time receptionist. Easy money on the weekends. Anything I can help you with? It's pretty late..." She resisted the urge to giggle, though amusement clearly hid in her words. "You're looking good, Shortman."

The boy blushed slightly, realizing he was still in his pajamas. "Uh, thanks." He drummed his fingers idly on the counter whilst talking. "Pataki? She's in labor— I meant uh her-her sister's—"

"Oh. You're with the loudmouth." Ruth popped her gum obnoxiously, flipping through some paperwork.

Arnold _almost_ let out a bark of laughter, a flood of pride swelling in his heart. He scratched the back of his head apologetically. "Yeah, that sounds like her."

"She'll be on the third floor waiting room. I'll see you around."

"Sure, thanks!"

The blond leaned onto the wall inside of the empty elevator, quietly chuckling at the adjective Ruth used. He imagined Helga, sort of pushed to the side by the staff as her sister was wheeled behind some double doors; furious at her circumstances because, _All she wanted was a __**nice**__ night with her friends! "__**Is that too much to ask for?**__"_ and now she also had to somehow help to usher in another life to this '_Godforsaken world_'. (Her words, not his.)

The elevator dinged, letting him off at the correct floor. His eyes scanned the fluorescently-lit surroundings, searching for Helga. He found her relatively quickly, hunched over at a corner next to a potted plant, grumbling at a clipboard of papers. She didn't notice him approach as he slid into the seat next to her, and leaned annoyingly close to look at what she was up to.

Gritting her teeth, she abruptly used her foot to shove the boy's seat away before looking up, causing the chair underneath him to screech in protest. Her eyes flashed in anger as she yelled, "Look PUNK—"

He threw a sheepish smile at his girlfriend, awkwardly hopping the chair back over.

"Dammit Arnold, I thought you were some shitty-ass kid who's parents didn't know how to handle them." She pouted, pinching his forearm lightly.

"I knew what you thought." He smirked, rubbing the sore spot. "So how's Olga?" He casually placed his arm across the back of her chair.

"You actually just missed the OB-Gyn. She told me that Olga just had Braxton-Hicks contractions* and will be held in here for the night, for observation. Since she's a low-risk pregnancy, there isn't anything to worry about, just standard protocol. I've gotta fill out all this shit though because she doesn't live here, and I guess we'll pick her up tomorrow."

"Where's her husband by the way?" He made sure to stow away the fact that she said 'we'. It made him feel fuzzy inside.

Helga looked back down at the papers, scribbling sporadically within blanks. "Uh, he's some sort of philanthropist —that's how they met actually, they were both at some Inuit village— he's in Central America or whatever for a last-minute trip and is supposed to be back next week. _Before_ the baby's due."

Arnold's ears perked up, "San Lorenzo?"

Helga finished off the paperwork, standing up to stretch. "Yeah," she yawned tiredly, "Sounds about right."

Arnold nodded, wondering if this man he's never met would just so happen to meet the green-eyed people he's never met who helped aid the parents he's never met. Before he realized it, Helga and Arnold were at Olga's bedside, watching the younger sister go through the motions of leaving a loved-one at the hospital.

"Well, the doctor probably briefed you already, right?"

"Yeah."

"How you feelin? Hopped up on pain meds?"

"Don't be so crude, baby sister; though I _am_ feeling awfully loopy."

Helga chuckled. "Well yeah. Just call my cell tomorrow morning and I'll pick you up. You gave all of us quite the scare you know."

"Well, from what I overheard, I also saved your butt. So you owe me one." Olga smirked, drowsily.

Helga snorted in response, "And getting you to the hospital doesn't count?"

"Nope! But brunch tomorrow sounds great, Baby Sister!"

"Whatever. Night."

"Night! Drive home safe! I love you!"

Before the two stepped out, Arnold made eye-contact with the older Pataki. "Glad you're alright, Olga."

She smiled at the boy. "Me too." She dropped her voice to a whisper before winking, "Take care of her."

Arnold winked back, closing the door behind him and Helga.

In the car, Arnold still had the keys and somehow felt comfortable driving for now. There was a stretch of silence between them as the highway lights rhythmically passed through the car windows, syncing up with the beat of the smooth jazz of the radio. It was three in the morning, and barely any other vehicle was out on the road.

Arnold cleared his throat. He heard the girl next to him shift to look at the side of his face.

"Want to... stay the night?" He could feel Helga's smirk growing, almost searing his cheek with its smugness, as Arnold's own face turned beet-red and stuttered, "Not-not in _that_ way, I just meant; your house being empty and all and—"

Helga straight up laughed, slapping a palm against her knee. "Don't get all flustered, Arnoldo. Thanks for the offer... I uh" This time she was the one to start blushing, "I think I'll take you up on that."

"Cool."

"Cool."

Though it was admittedly super sketchy of the two of them, they used the fire escape and Arnold's glass skylight to enter the boardinghouse, making sure to avoid anyone who could possibly be awake or wake up from their entrance. Upon Helga's suggestion, Arnold somehow scrounged up two sleeping bags and zipped them together to create one large one to spread out across the rooftop. Helga rummaged around in the dark for a couple more blankets and pillows, the two of them finally settling down on their makeshift bed.

Tentatively, she snuggled up to the side of him, laying her head on his chest. She was nervous, but the sound of his heartbeat calmed her inner monologue. Instinctively, he started running his fingers through her unwound hair.

Police sirens were heard in the distance, accompanied by Thad's unmistakable manic laughter. The two of them melted into a fit of giggles, rolling away from one another to clutch their stomachs.

When they calmed down again, Helga spoke. "Thanks."

"For what?" Arnold was billions of miles from the moment at hand, trying to name the constellations that were currently above them; wanting to impress her with his knowledge.

"For a lot."

He smiled, though she wasn't able to see it. "No problem, Helga." Snuggling back around her, he continued, "I was pleasantly surprised about today."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, before the whole fiasco, things seemed to be going pretty well. And even afterward, I think we handled it well."

Helga chortled, "Don't thank me, it was mostly Phoebe."

There was a breath of silence before she kept going, letting her stream of consciousness come out. "Yeah. Without Phoebe, I would have probably royally fucked something up by now. Probably be in juvi."

Arnold winced at her language, looking down at the top of Helga's head. He shifted his hand to hug her close. He tried to keep his tone of voice delicate. "What... what do you mean?"

"Let's face it Arnold," She sighed, "My family isn't necessarily the most uh, stable out there."

He was boring holes at the top of her head, trying to will her to look up at him, at his sincerity. "Helga."

"No, just listen for a bit." She refused to budge. "I'm being realistic. No matter how romantic I may be, I need to always be in sight of the truth. My mom's an alcoholic who _had_ —maybe still has— so much potential. My dad, though he tries, just doesn't have it in him to be a _father_. Not just the dad, not just the provider, but a **father**." Helga sighed once more, not at all having planned to let everything out —let alone _twice_ in one night.

She barreled through her observations anyway. "Olga, Olga's the exception only because I feel like she's tried all her life to _not_ turn out like them. Fueled at first to make them proud, but something in her also understands the absurdity of their way of _existing_. Not _living_. And obviously, I've been trying too, but it's different for me. It's like... it's like I _can't_ get away from it and sometimes it's only a thin shred of luck keeping me from the same self-destructive path." Her breath quivered when she inhaled, close to tears. "Phoebe and you are part of what makes me feel so lucky."

Arnold didn't say anything. He couldn't. But something within him finally made sense. He remained quiet though, opting to just shift her bangs from her forehead and softly tilt her head up toward him for a kiss. He hoped it said all he wanted to say.

He did eventually have something to contribute. "Have more faith in yourself, Helga." Her blue eyes reflected Orion's Belt so perfectly, the universe was _right there_. "...I know I do."

Neither of them were ready to sleep. The adrenaline from earlier was still tunneling its way through their veins, and so they kept talking. Just talking. Somehow, through some general questions about Maddock, they got onto the subject of Arnold's parents.

"They're dead, Helga." He sat up, causing her to follow suit. "Remember that summer I went off with my grandparents?"

"Yeah..."

Arnold looked down at his hands. He looked so _defeated_, the sound of her heart breaking for him surely must have been audible. She cautiously wrapped her arms around him, still not sure what to do when it came to showing affection. In turn, he buried his face at the crook of her neck and pulled her onto his lap. With his arms around her waist, he held her tightly, as if afraid she'd just up and float away. His muffled confession came out along with a few stray tears.

"Sometimes... Sometimes I feel so alone."

She was at a loss, only doing what came naturally to her. Holding onto what she loved the most, and using words. Words were her only strength at times like this.

"They loved you, Arnold," she soothed, her own eyes starting to mist; her hands making their way through his hair. "I, I mean mine—"

"—They love _you_, Helga," he interrupted, voice low; reverberating between the two of them. The girl mentally rolled her eyes, _Criminy, this boy is trying to comfort __**me**__ right now? Bless him._

She continued on. "I'll always be here. So will your grandparents, and Gerald, and Lila, and heck; even Phoebe..." she trailed off knowing this wasn't her most poetic of moments, but these words will do. She started feeling the first of tiny butterfly kisses leading up from her collar bone.

Releasing a soft sigh, he finally reached her lips, where they shared a series of the most tenderest open-mouth kisses.

"I love you."

Helga's eyes widened at the heartfelt confession, swearing she could get completely lost in those greens of his. _Even in the dark of night_. His eyes swept over her face, before settling on her slightly parted lips. He continued, realizing the girl in his lap honestly didn't believe him.

"I, Arnold Shortman, love you, Helga G. Pataki."

A huge, uncharacteristic smile broke through her face. Before he could kiss her again, she leapt at him, re-wrapping her arms around his shoulders and toppling the two over into the messy sleeping bag.

She sighed melodically into his chest; arms draped around his neck. "I love you too. I always will."

* * *

**A/N:** So cute I'm going to faint. I like Maddock. I mean, who wouldn't?

*_Braxton-Hicks Contractions:_ AKA False Labor - "...Sporadic uterine contractions that start about 6 weeks... [usually noticed] sometime after mid-pregnancy... (Some women don't.)" - Quoted from 'babycenter' website.


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